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TWO YEARS BEFORE 
THE MAST 


By Richard Henry Dana 

If 


EDITED BY 

HATTIE L. HAWLEY 

AND 

ELIZABETH H. GORDON 

DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH, HIGH SCHOOL OF COMMERCE 
WORCESTER, MASSACHUSETTS 



CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 

NEW YORK CHICAGO BOSTON 

ATLANTA 


SAN FRANCISCO 





Copyright, 1924, by 
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 


Printed in the United States of America 
A 






PREFACE 


Several years after the appearance of Two Years Before the 
Mast , Horace Mann asked Dana to revise the narrative for use 
as a school text. The great educator realized that for school 
children the book in its original form presented certain funda¬ 
mental difficulties. To the author, the technical details of each 
day’s sailing had all the absorbing thrill of a novel experience. 
To the boy or girl of to-day, that part of the sailor’s life makes 
little appeal. Yet young people always find a fascination in the 
life in the forecastle, in the strength and heroism of those “who 
go down to the sea in ships, who do business in great waters.” 

The editors of this abridged text of Dana’s masterpiece have 
taken Horace Mann’s suggestion and have planned their work 
with the young people of to-day in mind. They hope that, by 
means of this edition, young people may find greater delight in 
Dana’s vivid pictures of life before the mast, of early days in 
California, and of stormy voyages around the Horn. 




INTRODUCTION 


Richard Henry Dana, Jr., the author of Two Years Before 
the Mast , was not a sailor by profession, nor did he come from a 
seafaring ancestry. Like other members of his family, he was 
primarily interested in political and legal matters. His grand¬ 
father Francis Dana had held office as a delegate from Massa¬ 
chusetts to the Continental Congress, had served as the first 
American minister to Russia, and later had been chief justice 
of the Massachusetts Supreme Court. Richard Henry Dana’s 
father was a friend of the poet William Cullen Bryant, and 
was himself a poet and essayist. 

The author was bom August I, 1815, in Cambridge, Massa¬ 
chusetts, where he spent his boyhood. At the beginning of his 
junior year at Harvard, an attack of measles left his eyes pain¬ 
fully weak. Since study was impossible under the circumstances, 
a prolonged vacation seemed necessary. 

An opportunity opened for a trip to Calcutta as passenger in 
a merchant vessel, but he realized that an inactive voyage would 
afford him little relief. Accordingly he determined to go as a 
seaman, that he might profit by the hard work, plain diet, and 
open-air life. His father, at first reluctant, gave consent, and 
the nineteen-year-old boy entered upon a new experience. He 
secured a berth in the brig Pilgrim , bound for California, be¬ 
cause, as he said, “California was represented to be a very 
healthy coast, with a fine climate, and plenty of hard work for 
the sailors.” 

He sailed from Boston August 14, 1834, and returned in 
September two years later in the ship Alert. The experience 
had strengthened him and developed new initiative in him. 
The sensitive, day-dreaming boy had become a resolute, self- 
reliant man. 

From a diary kept during his voyage, Dana wrote his Two 
Years Before the Mast , which was published in 1840. It was his 

vii 


Vlll 


INTRODUCTION 


most popular book, though he later wrote biographies, a work 
on international law, and two travel articles, To Cuba and Back 
and an account of revisiting California twenty-four years after 
his first voyage, in the Pilgrim. 

After his graduation from Harvard and from law school, 
Dana began the practice of law. His sea narrative had at¬ 
tracted the notice of sailors, and as a result his office was fre¬ 
quently crowded with seamen in need of legal services. Though 
these early clients brought him little financial profit, he gained 
skill and reputation as their legal adviser. Later he became 
prominent in defending fugitive slaves, and won the name of 
being so persistent that he never knew when he was defeated. 

He took an active part in the political discussions which pre¬ 
ceded the Civil War, and also in the revision of the Constitu¬ 
tion of the State of Massachusetts. 

During a vacation in 1849 he visited the Adirondack home of 
a farmer, John Brown, who later became famous in the annals 
of the Civil War. Dana and two friends asked for a night’s 
lodging at the log house of Brown, who is thus described in 
Dana’s Memoirs: “A grave, serious man he seemed, with a 
marked countenance and a natural dignity of manner.” Years 
after, Dana commented: “It would have been past belief had 
we been told that this quiet frontier farmer, already at or be¬ 
yond middle life, with no noticeable past, would within ten years 
be the central figure of a great tragic scene, gazed upon with 
wonder, pity, admiration, or execration by half a continent.” 

Dana numbered among his close friends many of the famous 
men living in Cambridge. As a member of the Saturday Club, 
he frequently met Holmes, Emerson, Agassiz, Whittier, Haw¬ 
thorne, Lowell, Longfellow, and others prominent in American 
letters. His home was near that of Longfellow, one of whose 
daughters Dana’s son married. 

The last years of his life were embittered by a long contro¬ 
versy over the editing of Wheaton’s Elements of International 
Law. Indirectly this difficulty cost him his appointment as 
minister to England. Though he was nominated in 1876 for 
the office, the Senate failed to confirm the appointment. 


INTRODUCTION 


IX 


Gradually failing health and the desire to complete his work 
on international law led him to give up active practice and to 
go to Europe for study. He died in Rome, in 1882, and was 
buried there. 

The great work of his life was, as he himself said, his boyish 
adventure. Two Years Before the Mast y the diary of a college 
boy shipping before the mast, a faithful account of long night 
watches, battles with storms, hardships in the forecastle, alluring 
glimpses of strange lands. Its vivid descriptions and its appeal¬ 
ing humor gained many readers on both sides of the Atlantic. 
Its faithfulness to detail gave the landsman insight into the life 
of the man in the forecastle. The light it threw on the hidden 
tragedies of life on shipboard aided in bringing about better 
conditions in the merchant marine of both England and America. 














CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Introduction .vii 

CHAPTER 

I. The “Pilgrim” Sets Sail . i 

II. A Sailor’s Duties. 8 

III. Mr. Foster Loses His Position .... 13 

IV. Rounding Cape Horn.21 

V. Superstitions of Sailors ...... 28 

VI. Robinson Crusoe’s Island.32 

VII. The Sailors Have a Grievance .... 36 

VIII. Santa Barbara.40 

IX. Monterey.47 

X. Trading at Monterey.. . 49 

XI. Back to Santa Barbara.54 

XII. The Captain Enforces Discipline ... 62 

XIII. A Sailor’s Liberty.73 

XIV. Landing Hides at San Diego.77 

XV. A California Easter.82 

XVI. Hide-Curing.91 

XVII. Good Times on Shore.100 

xi 
















CONTENTS 


xii 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XVIII. The “Alert” .106 

XIX. A Change of Scene .112 

XX. More Loading of Hides.121 

XXI. A Joke on the Spaniards .126 

XXII. San Francisco.135 

XXIII. A California Wedding. 141 

XXIV. A Sick Kanaka .149 

XXV. Good-bye, California.156 

XXVI. Homeward Bound. 170 

XXVII. Dangerous Weather . . . . . . . 177 

XXVIII. Killing Time at Cape Horn .... 190 

XXIX. On the Atlantic Again .196 

XXX. A Narrow Escape. 203 

XXXI. Danger From Scurvy.207 

XXXII. Home Again! .211 

Notes.217 

Questions.226 
















ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING PAGE 

Dana’s voyage to California and back. I 

The brig Pilgrim . 2 

We sprang aloft immediately and furled the royals and 
top-gallant sails.18 

As soon as we felt that the sea had got hold of us ... we 
threw the oars from the boat and took hold of the gun¬ 
wale .42 

There was a fine tall ship . . . coming rapidly round the 
point.108 

Here was a fine chance for a rowing match and every one 
did his best.126 

It washed fore and aft, burying her in the water . . . 178 








1 








TWO YEARS BEFORE 
THE MAST 

CHAPTER I 

THE “PILGRIM’’ SETS SAIL 

The fourteenth of August was the day fixed upon for 
the sailing of the brig Pilgrim, on her voyage from Boston, 
round Cape Horn, to the western coast of North America. 
As she was to get under way early in the afternoon, I made 
my appearance on board at twelve o’clock, in full sea-rig, 
and with my chest, containing an outfit for a two or three 
years’ voyage, which I had undertaken from a determination 
to cure, if possible, by an entire change of life, and by a 
long absence from books and study, a weakness of the eyes 
which had obliged me to give up my pursuits, and which no 
medical aid seemed likely to cure. 

I joined the crew, and we hauled out into the stream, 
and came to anchor for the night. The next day we were 
employed in preparations for sea, reeving studding-sail gear, 
crossing royal-yards, putting on chafing gear, and taking on 
board our powder. On the following night I stood my first 
watch. I remained awake nearly all the first part of the 
night; and when I went on deck, so great were my ideas 
of the importance of my trust, that I walked regularly fore 
and aft the whole length of the vessel, looking out over 
the bows and taffrail at each turn, and was not a little 
surprised at the coolness of the old salt whom I called to 
take my place, in stowing himself snugly away under the 
long-boat for a nap. 

The next morning was Saturday, and, a breeze having 
sprung up from the southward, we took a pilot on board, 
and began beating down the bay. As we drew down into 


1 


2 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


the lower harbour, we found the wind ahead in the bay, 
and were obliged to come to anchor in the roads. We 
remained there through the day and a part of the night. 
My watch began at eleven o’clock at night. About mid¬ 
night the wind became fair, and, having called the captain, 
I was ordered to call all hands. How I accomplished this 
I do not know, but I am quite sure that I did not give the 
true hoarse boatswain call of “A-a -11 ha-a-a-nds! up anchor, 
a-ho-oy!” In a short time every one was in motion, the 
sails loosed, the yards braced, and we began to heave up 
the anchor. I could take but little part in these prepara¬ 
tions. My little knowledge of a vessel was all at fault. 

Unintelligible orders were so rapidly given, and so imme¬ 
diately executed; there was such a hurrying about, and such 
an intermingling of strange cries and stranger actions, that 
I was completely bewildered. At length those peculiar, 
long-drawn sounds which denote that the crew are heaving 
at the windlass began, and in a few minutes we were under 
way. The noise of the water thrown from the bows began 
to be heard, the vessel leaned over from the damp night- 
breeze, and rolled with the heavy ground-swell, and we had 
actually begun our long, long journey. 

The first day we passed at sea was Sunday. As we were 
just from port, and there was a great deal to be done on 
board, we were kept at work all day, and at night the 
watches were set, and everything put into sea order. 

I, being in the starboard or second mate’s watch, had the 

opportunity of keeping the first watch at sea. S--, a 

young man making, like myself, his first voyage, was in the 
same watch, and as he was the son of a professional man, 
we found that we had many friends and topics in common. 
We talked matters over—Boston, what our friends were 
probably doing, our voyage, &c.,—until he went to take his 
turn at the look-out, and left me to myself. I had now a 
fine time for reflection. 

But all my dreams were soon put to flight by an order 
from the officer to trim the yards, as the wind was getting 



The Brig “Pilgrim’* 




















4 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


ahead; and I could plainly see, by the looks the sailors occa¬ 
sionally cast to windward and by the dark clouds that were 
fast coming up, that we had had weather to prepare for, 
and had heard the captain say that he expected to be in the 
Gulf Stream by twelve o’clock. In a few minutes eight 
bells were struck, the watch called, and we went below. 
I now began to feel the first discomforts of a sailor’s life. 
The steerage, in which I lived, was filled with coils of 
rigging, spare sails, old junk, and ship stores which had not 
been stowed away. Moreover, there had been no berths 
built for us to sleep in. The sea, too, had risen, the vessel 
was rolling heavily, and everything was pitched about in 
grand confusion. There was a complete “hurrah’s nest,” 
as the sailors say, “everything on top and nothing at hand.” 
A large hawser had been coiled away upon my chest; my 
hats, boots, mattress, and blankets had all fetched away and 
gone over to leeward, and were jammed and broken under 
the boxes and coils of rigging. To crown all, I was just 
beginning to feel strong symptoms of sea-sickness, and that 
listlessness and inactivity which accompany it. Giving up 
all attempts to collect my things together, I lay down upon 
the sails, expecting every moment to hear the cry of “All 
hands, ahoy!” which the approaching storm would soon 
make necessary. 

I shortly heard the raindrops falling on deck thick and 
fast, and the watch evidently had their hands full of work, 
for I could hear the loud and repeated orders of the mate, 
the trampling of feet, the creaking of blocks, and all the 
accompaniments of a coming storm. In a few minutes the 
slide of the hatch was thrown back, which let down the 
noise and tumult of the deck still louder, the loud cry of 
“All hands, ahoy! Tumble up here and take in sail!” 
saluted our ears, and the hatch was quickly shut again. 
When I got upon deck, a new scene and a new experience 
was before me. 

The little brig was close-hauled upon the wind, and lying 
over, as it then seemed to me, nearly upon her beam-ends. 


THE “PILGRIM” SETS SAIL 


5 


The heavy head-sea was beating against her bows with the 
noise and force almost of a sledge-hammer, and flying over 
the deck, drenching us completely through. The topsail- 
halyards had been let go, and the great sails were filling 
out and backing against the masts with a noise like thunder ; 
the wind was whistling through the rigging; loose ropes 
flying about; loud and, to me, unintelligible orders con¬ 
stantly given, and rapidly executed; and the sailors “singing 
out” at the ropes in their hoarse and peculiar strains. 

In addition to all this, I had not got my “sea legs on,” 
was dreadfully sick, with hardly strength enough to hold 
on to anything, and it was “pitch dark.” This was my 
state when I was ordered aloft, for the first time, to reef 
topsails. 

How I got along I cannot now remember. I “laid out” 
on the yards and held on with all my strength. I could 
not have been of much service, for I remember having been 
sick several times before I left the topsail yard. Soon all 
was snug aloft, and we were again allowed to go below. 

This state of things continued for two days. 

W ednesday, August 20 th. We had the watch on deck 
from four till eight, this morning. When we came on deck 
at four o’clock, we found things much changed for the 
better. The sea and wind had gone down, and the stars 
were out bright. I experienced a corresponding change in 
my feelings, yet continued extremely weak from my sick¬ 
ness. I stood in the waist on the weather side, watching 
the gradual breaking of the day, and the first streaks of the 
early light. Much has been.said of the sunrise at sea; but 
it will not compare with the sunrise on shore. It lacks the 
accompaniments of the songs of birds, the awakening hum 
of humanity, and the glancing of the first beams upon trees, 
hills, spires, and house-tops, to give it life and spirit. There 
is no scenery. But, although the actual rise of the sun at 
sea is not so beautiful, yet nothing will compare for melan¬ 
choly and dreariness with the early breaking of day upon 
“Old Ocean’s gray and melancholy waste.” 


6 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


There is something in the first gray streaks stretching 
along the eastern horizon and throwing an indistinct light 
upon the face of the deep, which combines with the bound¬ 
lessness and unknown depth of the sea around, and gives 
one a feeling of loneliness, of dread, and of melancholy 
foreboding, which nothing else in nature can. This gradu¬ 
ally passes away as the light grows brighter, and when the 
sun comes up, the ordinary monotonous sea day begins. 

From such reflections as these, I was aroused by the order 
from the officer, “Forward there! rig the head-pump!” I 
found that no time was allowed for day-dreaming, but that 
we must “turn to” at the first light. Having called up the 
“idlers,” namely, carpenters, cook, steward, &c., and rigged 
the pump, we commenced washing down the decks. This 
operation, which is performed every morning at sea, takes 
nearly two hours; and I had hardly strength enough to get 
through it. After we had finished, swabbed down, and 
coiled up the rigging, I sat on the spars, waiting for seven 
bells, which was the sign for breakfast. The officer, seeing 
my lazy posture, ordered me to slush the mainmast, from 
the royal-masthead down. The vessel was then rolling a 
little, and I had taken no sustenance for three days, so that 
I felt tempted to tell him that I had rather wait till after 
breakfast; but I knew that if I showed any sign of want 
of spirit or of backwardness, I should be ruined at once. 
So I took my bucket of grease and climbed up to the royal- 
masthead. Here the rocking of the vessel, which increases 
the higher you go from the foot of the mast, which is the 
fulcrum of the lever, and the smell of the grease upset my 
stomach again, and I was not a little rejoiced when I got 
upon the comparative terra firma of the deck. In a few 
minutes seven bells were struck, the log hove, the watch 
called, and we went to breakfast. 

I cannot describe the change which half a pound of cold 
salt beef and a biscuit or two produced in me. I was a new 
being. We had a watch below until noon, so that I had 
some time to myself, and getting a huge piece of strong, 


THE “PILGRIM” SETS SAIL 


7 


cold salt beef from the cook, I kept gnawing upon it until 
twelve o’clock. When we went on deck I felt somewhat 
like a man, and could begin to learn my sea duty with 
considerable spirit. At about two o’clock we heard the loud 
cry of “Sail ho!” from aloft, and soon saw two sails to 
windward, going directly athwart our hawse. This was 
the first time that I had seen a sail at sea. I thought then, 
and have always since, that it exceeds every other sight in 
interest and beauty. They passed to leeward of us, and out 
of hailing distance. 

Thursday , August 21 st. This day the sun rose clear; we 
had a fine wind, and everything was bright and cheerful. 
About six bells, that is, three o’clock p.m., we saw a sail 
on our larboard bow. I was very anxious, like every new 
sailor, to speak her. She came down to us, backed her main- 
topsail, and the two vessels stood “head on,” bowing and 
curveting at each other like a couple of war-horses reined 
in by their riders. It was the first vessel that I had seen 
near, and I was surprised to find how much she rolled and 
plunged in so quiet a sea. She plunged her head into the 
sea, and then, her stern settling gradually down, her huge 
bows rose up, showing the bright copper, and her stern and 
breast-hooks dripping with the brine. Her decks were filled 
with passengers, who had come up at the cry of “Sail ho!” 
and who by their dress and features appeared to be Swiss 
and French emigrants. She was the ship La Carolina , from 
Havre, for New York. We desired her to report the brig 
Pilgrim , from Boston, for the northwest coast of America, 
five days out. She then filled away and left us to plough 
on through our waste of waters. 

There is a settled routine for hailing ships at sea: “Ship 
a-hoy!” Answer, “Hulloa!” “What ship is that, pray?” 
“The ship Carolina , from Havre, bound to New York. 
Where are you from?” “The brig Pilgrim , from Boston, 
bound to the coast of California, five days out.” Unless 
there is leisure, or something special to say, this form is not 
much varied from. 


CHAPTER II 


a sailor’s duties 

As we had now a long “spell” of fine weather, without 
any incident to break the monotony of our lives, there can 
be no better place to describe the duties, regulations, and 
customs of an American merchantman, of which ours was 
a fair specimen. 

The captain, in the first place, is lord paramount. He 
stands no watch, comes and goes when he pleases, and is 
accountable to no one, and must be obeyed in everything. 
He has the power to turn his officers off duty, and even to 
make them do duty as sailors in the forecastle. 

The prime minister, the official organ, and the active and 
superintending officer is the chief mate. The captain tells 
him what he wishes to have done, and leaves to him the 
care of overseeing, of allotting the work, and also the 
responsibility of its being well done. The mate also keeps 
the log-book, for which he is responsible to the owners and 
insurers, and has the charge of the stowage, safe-keeping, 
and delivery of the cargo. 

The second mate’s is proverbially a dog’s berth. The 
men do not respect him as an officer, and he is obliged to 
go aloft to reef and furl the topsails, and to put his hands 
into the tar and slush with the rest. The crew call him 
the “sailor’s waiter,” as he has to furnish them with spun- 
yarn, marline, and all other stuffs that they need in their 
work, and has charge of the boatswain’s locker, which in¬ 
cludes serving-boards, marline-spikes, &c. His wages are 
usually double those of a common sailor, and he eats and 
sleeps in the cabin; but he is obliged to be on deck nearly 

8 


A SAILOR’S DUTIES 


9 


all his time, and eats at the second table, that is, makes a 
meal out of what the captain and chief mate leave. 

The steward is the captain’s servant, and has charge of 
the pantry, from which every one, even the mate himself, 
is excluded. 

The cook is the patron of the crew, and those who are 
in his favour can get their wet mittens and stockings dried, 
or light their pipes at the galley in the night watch. These 
two worthies, together with the carpenter and sailmaker, 
if there be one, stand no watch, but, being employed all 
day, are allowed to “sleep in” at night, unless all hands are 
called. 

The crew are divided into two watches. Of these, the 
chief mate commands the larboard, and the second mate 
the starboard. They divide the time between them, being 
on and off duty, or on deck and below, every other four 
hours. If, for instance, the chief mate with the larboard 
watch have the first night watch from eight to twelve, at 
the end of the four hours the starboard watch is called, and 
the second mate takes the deck, while the larboard watch 
and the first mate go below until four in the morning, when 
they come on deck again and remain until eight. As the 
larboard watch will have been on deck eight hours out of 
the twelve, while the starboard watch will have been up 
only four hours, the former have what is called a “forenoon 
watch below,” that is, from eight a.m. till twelve M. In a 
man-of-war, and in some merchantmen, this alternation of 
watches is kept up throughout the twenty-four hours, which 
is called having “watch and watch”; but our ship, like most 
merchantmen, had “all hands” from twelve o’clock till dark, 
except in very bad weather, when we were allowed “watch 
and watch.” 

An explanation of the “dog-watches” may, perhaps, be 
of use to one who has never been at sea. Their purpose 
is to shift the watches each night, so that the same watch 
need not be on deck at the same hours. In order to effect 
this, the watch from four to eight p.m. is divided into two 


10 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


half, or dog-watches, one from four to six, and the other 
from six to eight. By this means they divide the twenty- 
four hours into seven watches instead of six, and thus shift 
the hours every night. As the dog-watches come during 
twilight, after the day’s work is done, and before the night- 
watch is set, they are the watches in which everybody is 
on deck. 

The captain is up, walking on the weather side of the 
quarter-deck, the chief mate on the lee side, and the second 
mate about the weather gangway. The steward has finished 
his work in the cabin, and has come up to smoke his pipe 
with the cook in the galley. The crew are sitting on the 
windlass or lying on the forecastle, smoking, singing, or 
telling long yarns. At eight o’clock eight bells are struck, 
the log is hove, the watch set, the wheel relieved, the galley 
shut up, and the watch off duty goes below. 

The morning begins with the watch on deck’s “turning 
to” at daybreak and washing down, scrubbing, and swabbing 
the decks. This, together with filling the “scuttled butt” 
with fresh water, and coiling up the rigging, usually occu¬ 
pies the time until seven bells (half after seven), when all 
hands get breakfast. At eight the day’s work begins, and 
lasts until sundown, with the exception of an hour for 
dinner. 

The discipline of the ship requires every man to be at 
work upon something when he is upon deck, except at night 
and on Sundays. It is the officer’s duty to keep every one 
at work, even if there is nothing to be done but to scrape 
die rust from the chain cables. No conversation is allowed 
among the crew at their duty, and though they frequently 
do talk when aloft, or when near one another, yet they 
always stop when an officer is nigh. 

When I first left port, and found that we were kept 
regularly employed for a week or two, I supposed that we 
were getting the vessel into sea trim, and that it would 
soon be over, and we should have nothing to do but to sail 
the ship; but I found that it continued so for two years, 


A SAILOR’S DUTIES 


11 


and at the end of two years there was as much to be done 
as ever. When first leaving port, studding-sail gear is to 
be rove, all the running rigging to be examined, that which 
is unfit for use to be got down, and new rigging rove in 
its place; then the standing rigging is to be overhauled, 
replaced, and repaired in a thousand different ways; and 
wherever any of the numberless ropes or the yards are 
chafing or wearing upon it, their “chafing gear,” as it is 
called, must be put on. Taking off, putting on, and mend¬ 
ing the chafing gear alone, upon a vessel, would find con¬ 
stant employment for two or three men during working 
hours for a whole voyage. 

All the “small stuffs” which are used on board a ship— 
such as spun-yarn, marline, seizing-stuff, &c.—are made on 
board. The owners of a vessel buy up incredible quantities 
of “old junk,” which the sailors unlay, after drawing out 
the yarns, knot them together, and roll them up in balls. 
These “rope yarns” are used for various purposes, but the 
greater part is manufactured into spun-yarn. For this pur¬ 
pose every vessel is furnished with a “spun-yarn winch,” 
which is very simple, consisting of a wheel and spindle. 

Another method of employing the crew is “setting up” 
rigging. Whenever any of the standing rigging becomes 
slack (which is continually happening) the seizings and 
coverings must be taken off, tackles got up, and after the 
rigging is bowsed well taut, the seizings and coverings re¬ 
placed, which is a very nice piece of work. If we add to 
this all the tarring, greasing, oiling, varnishing, painting, 
scraping, and scrubbing which is required in the course of 
a long voyage, and also remember this is all to be done in 
addition to watching at night, steering, reefing, furling, 
bracing, making and setting sail, and pulling, hauling, and 
climbing in every direction, one will hardly ask, “What can 
a sailor find to do at sea?” 

If, after all this labour, the merchants and captains think 
that they have not earned their twelve dollars a month and 
their salt beef and hard bread, they keep them picking 


12 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


oakum —ad infinitum. I have seen oakum stuff placed about 
in different parts of the ship, so that the sailors might not 
be idle in the snatches between the frequent squalls upon 
crossing the equator. Some officers have been so driven to 
find work for the crew of a ship ready for sea that they 
have set them to pounding the anchors and scraping the 
chain cables. The ‘‘Philadelphia Catechism” is,— 

“Six days shalt thou labour and do all thou art able, 

And on the seventh,—holystone the decks and scrape the 
cable.” 


CHAPTER III 


MR. FOSTER LOSES HIS POSITION 

After speaking the Carolina on the 21st of August, 
nothing occurred to break the monotony of our life until— 
Friday, September 5, when we saw a sail on the weather 
beam. 

Sunday, September 7 .—Fell in with the northeast trade- 
winds. This morning we caught our first dolphin. I was 
disappointed in the colors of this fish when dying. They 
were certainly very beautiful, but not equal to what has 
been said of them. They are too indistinct. To do the fish 
justice, there is nothing more beautiful than the dolphin 
when swimming a few feet below the surface, on a bright 
day. It is the most elegantly formed, and also the quickest 
fish in salt water; and the rays of the sun striking upon it, 
in its rapid and changing motions, reflected from the water, 
make it look like a stray beam from a rainbow. 

This day was spent like all pleasant Sabbaths at sea. 
The decks are washed down, the rigging coiled up, and 
everything put in order; and throughout the day only one 
watch is kept on deck at a time. The men are all dressed 
in their best white duck trousers, and red or checked shirts, 
and have nothing to do but to make the necessary changes 
in the sails. They employ themselves in reading, talking, 
smoking, and mending their clothes. If the weather is 
pleasant, they bring their work and their books upon deck 
and sit down upon the forecastle and windlass. 

To enhance the value of the Sabbath to the crew, they 
are allowed on that day a pudding, or, as it is called, a 
“duff.” This is nothing more than flour boiled with water, 
and eaten with molasses. It is very heavy, dark, and 

13 


14 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


clammy, yet it is looked upon as a luxury, and really forms 
an agreeable variety with salt beef and pork. 

We continued running large before the north-east trade 
winds for several days, until Monday— 

September 22. —When, upon coming on deck at seven 
bells in the morning, we found the other watch aloft throw¬ 
ing water upon the sails; and, looking astern, we saw a small 
clipper-built brig with a black hull heading directly after 
us. We went to work immediately, and put all the canvas 
upon the brig which we could get upon her, rigging out 
oars for studding-sail yards, and continued wetting down 
the sails by buckets of water whipped up to the masthead, 
until about nine o’clock, when there came on a drizzling 
rain. The vessel continued in pursuit, changing her course 
as we changed ours, to keep before the wind. The captain, 
who watched her with his glass, said that she was armed, 
and full of meh, and showed no colours. We continued 
running dead before the wind, knowing that we sailed better 
so, and that clippers are fastest on the wind. We had also 
another advantage. The wind was light, and we spread 
more canvas than she did. 

Early in the morning she was overhauling us a little, 
but after the rain came on and the wind grew lighter, we 
began to leave her astern. All hands remained on deck 
throughout the day, and we got our arms in order; but we 
were too few to have done anything with her if she had 
proved to be what we feared. Fortunately there was no 
moon, and the night which followed was exceedingly dark, 
so that, by putting out all the lights on board and altering 
our course four points, we hoped to get out of her reach. 
At daybreak there was no sign of anything in the horizon, 
and we kept the vessel off to her course. 

Wednesday, October 1 .—Crossed the equator in long. 
241° 24' w. I now, for the first time, felt at liberty, ac¬ 
cording to the old usage, to call myself a son of Neptune, 
and was very glad to be able to claim the title without the 
disagreeable initiation which so many have to go through. 


MR. FOSTER LOSES HIS POSITION 15 


After once crossing the line you can never be subjected to 
the process, but are considered as a son of Neptune, with 
full powers to play tricks upon others. 

It had been obvious to all hands for some time that the 
second mate, whose name was Foster, was an idle, careless 
fellow, and not much of a sailor, and that the captain was 
exceedingly dissatisfied with him. The power of the captain 
in these cases was well known, and we all anticipated a 
difficulty. Foster (called Mr. by virtue of his office) was 
but half a sailor, having always been short voyages, and 
remained at home a long time between them. His father 
was a man of some property, and intended to have given 
his son a liberal education; but he, being idle and worthless, 
was sent off to sea, and succeeded no better there; for, un¬ 
like many scamps, he had none of the qualities of a sailor,— 
he was “not of the stuff that they make sailors of.” He used 
to hold long yarns with the crew, and talk against the cap¬ 
tain, and play with the boys, and relax discipline in every 
way. This kind of conduct always makes the captain sus¬ 
picious, and is never pleasant, in the end, to the men; they 
preferring to have an officer active, vigilant, and distant as 
may be with kindness. 

The second night after crossing the equator we had the 
watch from eight till twelve, and it was “my helm” for 
the last two hours. There had been light squalls through 
the night, and the captain told Mr. Foster, who commanded 
our watch, to keep a bright look-out. Soon after I came 
to the helm I found that he was quite drowsy, and at last 
he stretched himself on the companion and went fast asleep. 
Soon afterwards the captain came quietly on deck, and 
stood by me for some time looking at the compass. The 
officer at length became aware of the captain’s presence, but, 
pretending not to know it, began humming and whistling to 
himself, to show that he was not asleep, and went forward, 
without looking behind him, and ordered the main royal 
to be loosed. On turning round to come aft he pretended 
surprise at seeing the master on deck. This would not do. 


16 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


The captain was too “wide awake” for him, and beginning 
upon him at once, gave him a grand blow-up in true nautical 
style. “You’re a lazy, good-for-nothing rascal! You’re 
neither man, boy, soger, nor sailor! You’re no more than 
a thing aboard a vessel! You don’t earn your salt!” and 
other still more choice extracts from the sailor’s vocabulary. 
After the poor fellow had taken this harangue he was sent 
into his state-room, and the captain stood the rest of the 
watch himself. 

At seven bells in the morning all hands were called aft, 
and told that Foster was no longer an officer on board, and 
that we might choose one of our own number for second 
mate. The crew refused to take the responsibility of choos¬ 
ing a man of whom we would never be able to complain, 
and left it to the captain. 

He picked out an active and intelligent young sailor, born 
near the Kennebec, who had been several Canton voyages, 
and proclaimed him in the following manner: “I choose 
Jim Hall. He’s your second mate. All you’ve got to do is 
to obey him as you would me; and remember that he is Mr. 
Hall.” Foster went forward in the forecastle as a common 
sailor, while young foremast Jim became Mr. Hall, and 
took up his quarters in the land of knives and forks and 
tea-cups. 

Sunday, October 5.—It was our morning watch, when 
soon after the day began to break a man on the forecastle 
called out, “Land ho!” I had never heard the cry before, 
and did not know what it meant; but I soon found, by the 
direction of all eyes, that there was land stretching along on 
our weather beam. 

As we ran in towards the coast we found that we were 
directly off the port of Pernambuco, and could see with the 
telescope the roofs of the houses, one large church, and the 
town of Olinda. It was here that I first saw one of those 
singular things called catamarans. They are composed of 
logs lashed together upon the water, have one large sail, are 
quite fast, and, strange as it may seem, are trusted as good 


MR. FOSTER LOSES HIS POSITION 17 


sea boats. After taking a new departure from Olinda we 
kept off on our way to Cape Horn. 

We met with nothing remarkable until we were in the 
latitude of the river La Plata. Here there are violent 
gales from the southwest, called Pomperos, which are very 
destructive to the shipping in the river, and are felt for many 
leagues at sea. They are usually preceded by lightning. 
The captain told the mates to keep a bright look-out, and if 
they saw lightning at the south-west to take in sail at once. 
We got the first touch of one during my watch on deck. 
I was walking in the lee gangway, and thought I saw light¬ 
ning on the lee bow. I told the second mate, who came 
over and looked out for some time. It was very black in 
the southwest, and in about ten minutes we saw a distinct 
flash. The wind, which had been southeast, had now left 
us, and it was dead calm. We sprang aloft immediately 
and furled the royals and topgallant-sails, and took in the 
flying-jib, hauled up the mainsail and trysail, squared the 
afteryards, and awaited the attack. A huge mist, capped 
with black clouds, came driving towards us, extending over 
that quarter of the horizon, and covering the stars, which 
shone brightly in the other part of the heavens. It came 
upon us at once with a blast, and a shower of hail and rain, 
which almost took our breath from us. 

The little vessel “paid off” from the wind, and ran on for 
some time directly before it, tearing through the water with 
everything flying. 

This was the first blow that I had seen which could 
really be called a gale. We had reefed our topsails in the 
Gulf Stream, and I thought it something serious, but an 
older sailor would have thought nothing of it. As I had 
now become used to the vessel and to my duty, I was of 
some service on a yard, and could knot my reef-point as 
well as anybody. I obeyed the order to lay aloft with the 
rest, and found the reefing a very exciting scene; for one 
watch reefed the fore-topsail, and the other the main, and 
every one did his utmost to get his topsail hoisted first. We 


18 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


had a great advantage over the larboard watch, because the 
chief mate never goes aloft, while our new second mate 
used to jump into the rigging as soon as we began to haul 
out the reef-tackle, and have the weather earing passed 
before there was a man upon the yard. In this way we were 
almost always able to raise the cry of “Haul out to leeward” 
before them, and, having knotted our points, would slide 
down the shrouds and backstays, and sing out at the topsail- 
halyards, to let it be known that we were ahead of them. 

Reefing is the most exciting part of a sailor’s duty. All 
hands are engaged upon it, and after the halyards are let go, 
there is no time to be lost—no “sogering” or hanging 
back—then. If one is not quick enough, another runs over 
him. The first on the yard goes to the weather earing, the 
second to the lee, and the next two to the “dog’s ears”; 
while the others lay along into the bunt, just giving each 
other elbow-room. In reefing, the yard-arms (the extremes 
of the yards) are the posts of honor; but in furling, the 
strongest and most experienced stand in the slings (or mid¬ 
dle of the yard) to make up the bunt. If the second mate 
is a smart fellow, he will never let any one take either of 
these posts from him. 

We remained for the rest of the night, and throughout 
the next day, under the same close sail, for it continued to 
blow very fresh; and though we had no more hail, yet there 
was a soaking rain, and it was quite cold and uncomfortable. 
Towards sundown the gale moderated a little, and it began 
to clear off in the southwest. We shook our reefs out one by 
one, and before midnight had topgallant-sails upon her. 

We had now made up our minds for Cape Horn and 
cold weather, and entered upon every necessary preparation. 

Tuesday, November 4 .—At daybreak saw land upon our 
larboard quarter. There were two islands; in a few hours 
we sank them in the northeast. These were the Falkland 
Islands. We had run between them and the main land of 
Patagonia. At sunset the second mate, who was at the 



We sprang aloft immediately and furled the royals and topgallant-sails 




























20 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


masthead, said that he saw land on the starboard bow. This 
must have been the island of Staten Land; and we were 
now in the region of Cape Horn, with a fine breeze from 
the northward, topmast and topgallant studding-sails set, 
and every prospect of a speedy and pleasant passage round. 


CHAPTER IV 


ROUNDING CAPE HORN 

TVednesday, November 5.—The weather was fine during 
the previous night, and we had a clear view of the Magellan 
Clouds and of the Southern Cross. The Magellan Clouds 
consist of three small nebulae in the southern part of the 
heavens—two bright, like the Milky Way, and one dark. 
When off Cape Horn they are nearly overhead. The Cross 
is composed of four stars in that form, and is said to be the 
brightest constellation in the heavens. 

During the first part of this day the wind was light, but 
after noon it came on fresh, and we furled the royals. We 
still kept the studding-sails out, and the captain said he 
should go round with them if he could. Just before eight 
o’clock (then about sundown in that latitude) the cry of 
“All hands ahoy!” was sounded down the fore-scuttle and 
the after-hatchway, and, hurrying upon deck, we found a 
large black cloud rolling on towards us from the south¬ 
west, blackening the whole heavens. “Here comes Cape 
Horn!” said the chief mate; and we had hardly time to haul 
down and clew up before it was upon us. In a few moments 
a heavier sea was raised than I had ever seen, and as it was 
directly ahead, the little brig, which was no better than a 
bathing-machine, plunged into it, and all the forward part 
of her was under water, the sea pouring in through the bow- 
ports and hawse-hole and over the knight-heads, threatening 
to wash everything overboard. We sprang aloft and double 
reefed the topsails, and furled all the other sails, and made 
all snug. But this would not do; the brig was labouring 
and straining against the head-sea, and the gale was growing 
worse and worse. At the same time sleet and hail were 
driving with all fury against us. 

21 


22 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


Throughout the night the storm was very violent—rain, 
hail, snow, and sleet beating upon the vessel—the wind con¬ 
tinuing ahead, and the sea running high. At daybreak 
(about three a.m.) the deck was covered with snow. The 
clouds cleared away at sunrise, and, the wind becoming 
more fair, we again made sail and stood nearly up to our 
course. 

Thursday, November 6 .—It continued more pleasant 
through the first part of the day, but at night we had the 
same scene over again. This night it was my turn to steer, 
or, as the sailors say, my trick at the helm, for two hours. 
Inexperienced as I was, I made out to steer to the satisfac¬ 
tion of the officer, and neither S- nor I gave up our 

tricks all the time that we were off the Cape. This was 
something to boast of, for it requires a good deal of skill 
and watchfulness to steer a vessel close-hauled in a gale of 
wind against a heavy head-sea. “Ease her when she 
pitches,” is the word; and a little carelessness in letting her 
ship a heavy sea might sweep the decks or knock the masts 
out of her. 

Friday, November 7.—Towards morning the wind went 
down, and during the whole forenoon we lay tossing about 
in a dead calm and in the midst of a thick fog. The calms 
here are unlike those in most parts of the world, for there 
is always such a high sea running, and the periods of calm 
are so short that it has no time to go down; and vessels, 
being under no command of sails or rudder, lie like logs 
upon the water. We were obliged to steady the booms and 
yards by guys and braces and to lash everything well below. 

The calm of the morning reminds me of a scene which I 
forgot to describe at the time of its occurrence, but which I 
remember from its being the first time that I had heard 
the near breathing of whales. It was on the night that we 
passed between the Falkland Islands and Staten Land. 
We had the watch from twelve to four, and, coming upon 
deck, found the little brig lying perfectly still, enclosed in 
a thick fog, and the sea as smooth as though oil had been 



ROUNDING CAPE HORN 


23 


poured upon it; yet now and then a long, low swell rolling 
under its surface, slightly lifting the vessel, but without 
breaking the glassy smoothness of the water. 

We were surrounded far and near by shoals of sluggish 
whales and grampuses, which the fog prevented our seeing, 
rising slowly to the surface, or perhaps lying out at length, 
heaving out those lazy, deep, and long-drawn breathings 
which give such an impression of supineness and strength. 
Some of the watch were asleep, and the others were quiet, 
so that there was nothing to break the illusion, and I stood 
leaning over the bulwarks, listening to the slow breathings 
of the mighty creatures,—now one breaking the water just 
alongside, whose black body I almost fancied that I could 
see through the fog; and again another, which I could just 
hear in the distance,—until the low and regular swell 
seemed like the heaving of the ocean’s mighty bosom to the 
sound of its own heavy and long-drawn respirations. 

Towards evening the fog cleared off, and we had every 
appearance of a cold blow; and soon after sundown it came 
on. Again it was clew up and haul down, reef and furl, 
until we had got her down to close-reefed topsails, double- 
reefed trysail, and reefed fore spenser. Snow, hail, and 
sleet were driving upon us most of the night, and the sea 
breaking over the bows and covering the forward part of the 
little vessel; but as she would lay her course, the captain 
refused to heave her to. 

Sunday , November 9. —To-day the sun rose clear and 
continued so until twelve o’clock, when the captain got an 
observation. This was very well for Cape Horn, and we 
thought it a little remarkable that, as we had not had one 
unpleasant Sunday during the whole voyage, the only toler¬ 
able day here should be a Sunday. But this did not last very 
long. Between five and six the cry of “All starbowlines 
ahoy!” summoned our watch on deck, and immediately all 
hands were called. A great cloud of a dark slate-color was 
driving on us from the southwest; and we did our best to 
take in sail before we were in the midst of it. 


24 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


In an instant the sea, which had been comparatively 
quiet, was running higher and higher; and it became almost 
as dark as night. The hail and sleet were harder than I 
had yet felt them, seeming almost to pin us down to the 
rigging. We were longer taking in sail than ever before, 
for the sails were stiff and wet, the ropes and rigging cov¬ 
ered with snow and sleet, and we ourselves cold and nearly 
blinded with the violence of the storm. By the time we 
had got down upon deck again the little brig was plunging 
madly into a tremendous head-sea, which at every drive 
rushed in through the bow-ports and over the bows and 
buried all the forward part of the vessel. At this instant 
the chief mate called out, “Lay out there and furl the jib!” 
This was no agreeable or safe duty, yet it must be done. 

John, a Swede (the best sailor on board), who belonged 
on the forecastle, sprang out upon the bowsprit. Another 
must go. I was near the mate, and sprang forward, threw 
the down-haul over the windlass, and jumped between the 
knight-heads out upon the bowsprit. The crew stood abaft 
the windlass and hauled the jib down, while we got out 
upon the weather side of the jib-boom, our feet on the foot 
ropes, holding on by the spar, the great jib flying off to 
leeward and slatting so as almost to throw us off the boom. 
For some time we could do nothing but hold on, and the 
vessel, dividing into two huge seas, one after the other, 
plunged us twice into the water up to our chins. John 
thought the boom would go every moment, and called out 
to the mate to keep the vessel off and haul down the stay¬ 
sail; but the fury of the wind and the breaking of the seas 
against the bows defied every attempt to make ourselves 
heard, and we were obliged to do the best we could in our 
situation. Fortunately no other seas so heavy struck her, 
and we succeeded in furling the jib “after a fashion”; and, 
coming in over the staysail nettings, were not a little pleased 
to find that all was snug and the watch gone below, for we 
were soaked through, and it was very cold. 

Monday , November 10 .—During a part of this day we 


ROUNDING CAPE HORN 


25 


were hove to, but the rest of the time were driving on under 
close-reefed sails. 

Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday .—The same. 

We had now got hardened to Cape weather, the vessel 
was under reduced sail, and everything secured on deck and 
below, so that we had little to do but to steer and to stand 
our watch. Our clothes were all wet through, and the only 
change was from wet to more wet. We had only to come 
below when the watch was out, wring out our wet clothes, 
hang them up, and turn in and sleep as soundly as we could 
until our watch was called again. The only time when we 
could be said to take any pleasure was at night and morning, 
when we were allowed a tin pot full of hot tea, sweetened 
with molasses. This, bad as it was, was still warm and com¬ 
forting, and, together with our sea biscuit and cold salt 
beef, made quite a meal. Yet even this meal was attended 
with some uncertainty. We had to go ourselves to the 
galley and take our kid of beef and tin pots of tea and run 
the risk of losing them before we could get below. Many 
a kid of beef have I seen rolling in the scuppers—and the 
bearer lying at his length on the decks. 

I remember an English lad who was always the life of 
the crew—whom we afterwards lost overboard—standing 
for nearly ten minutes at the galley, with his pot of tea in 
his hand, waiting for a chance to get down into the fore¬ 
castle, and, seeing what he thought was a “smooth spell,” 
started to go forward. 

He had just got to the end of the windlass when a great 
sea broke over the bows, and for a moment I saw nothing 
of him but his head and shoulders; and at the next instant, 
being taken off his legs, he was carried aft with the sea, 
until her stern lifting up, and sending the water forward, 
he was left high and dry at the side of the long-boat, still 
holding on to his tin pot, which had now nothing in it but 
salt water. But nothing could ever daunt him or over¬ 
come for a moment his habitual good-humour. Regaining 
his legs, he rolled below, saying as he passed, “A man’s no 


26 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


sailor if he can’t take a joke.” The ducking was not the 
worst of such an affair, for, as there was an allowance of 
tea, you could get no more from the galley; and though the 
sailors would never suffer a man to go without, but would 
always turn in a little from their own pots to fill up his, 
yet this was at best but dividing the loss among all hands. 

Something of the same kind befell me a few days after. 
The cook had just made for us a mess of hot “scouse”— 
that is biscuit pounded fine, salt beef cut into small pieces, 
and a few potatoes boiled up together and seasoned with 
pepper. This was a rare treat, and I being the last at the 
galley, had it put in my charge to carry down for the mess. 
I got along very well as far as the hatchway, and was just 
getting down the steps, when a heavy sea, lifting the stern 
out of W^ter, and, passing forward, dropping it down again, 
threw the steps from their place, and I came down into the 
steerage a little faster than I meant to, with the kid on top 
of me, and the whole precious mess scattered over the floor. 

Friday, November 14 .—We were now well to the west¬ 
ward of the Cape and were changing our course to the 
northward as much as we dared, since the strong south¬ 
west winds, which prevailed then, carried us in towards 
Patagonia. At two p.m. we saw a sail on our larboard 
beam, and at four we made it out to be a large ship, 
steering our course under single-reefed topsails. He ran 
down for us, and answered our hail as the whale-ship 
New England , of Poughkeepsie, one hundred and twenty 
days from New York. The ship fell astern, and continued 
in sight during the night. Toward morning, the wind hav¬ 
ing become light, the “spouter,” as the sailors call a whale¬ 
man, sent up his main top-gallant mast and set the sail, and 
made signal for us to heave to. About half-past seven their 
whale-boat came alongside, and Captain Job Terry sprang 
on board, a man known in every port and by every vessel 
in the Pacific Ocean. 

Captain Terry convinced our captain that our reckoning 
was a little out, and, having spent the day on board, put off 


ROUNDING CAPE HORN 


27 


in his boat at sunset for his ship, which was now six or 
eight miles astern. He began a “yarn/’ when he came 
aboard, which lasted, with but little intermission, for four 
hours. It would probably never have come to an end had 
not a good breeze sprung up which sent him off to his own 
vessel. 

At eight o’clock we altered our course to the northward, 
bound for Juan Fernandez. 

This day we saw the last of the albatrosses, which had 
been our companions a great part of the time off the Cape. 
I had been interested in the bird front descriptions and 
Coleridge’s poem, and was not at all disappointed. We 
caught one or two with a baited hook which we floated 
astern upon a shingle. Their long, flapping wings, long 
legs, and large, staring eyes, give them a very peculiar ap¬ 
pearance. They look well on the wing; but one of the 
finest sights that I have ever seen was an albatross asleep 
upon the water, during a calm, off Cape Horn, when a 
heavy sea was running. There being no breeze, the sur¬ 
face of the water was unbroken, but a long, heavy swell 
was rolling, and we saw the fellow, all white, directly ahead 
of us, asleep upon the waves, with his head under his 
wing; now rising on the top of a huge billow, and then 
falling slowly until he was lost in the hollow between. He 
was undisturbed for some time, until the noise of our bows, 
gradually approaching, roused him, when lifting his head 
he stared upon us for a moment and then spread his wide 
wings and took his flight. 


CHAPTER V 


SUPERSTITIONS OF SAILORS 

Monday , November 17 .—This was a black day in our 
calendar. At seven o’clock in the morning we were aroused 
from a sound sleep by the cry of “All hands ahoy! a man 
overboard!” This unwonted cry sent a thrill through the 
heart of every one, and hurrying on deck, we found the 
vessel hove flat aback, with all her studding-sails set. 

The watch on deck were lowering away the quarter-boat, 
and I got on deck just in time to heave myself into her as 
she was leaving the side; but it was not until out upon the 
wide Pacific in our little boat that I knew we had lost 
George Ballmer, a young English sailor, who was prized 
by the officers as an active and willing seaman, and by the 
crew as a lively, hearty fellow, and a good shipmate. 

He was going aloft to fit a strap round the main topmast- 
head for ring-tail halyards, and had the strap and block, a 
coil of halyards and a marline-spike about his neck. He 
fell from the starboard futtock shrouds, and not knowing 
how to swim, and being heavily dressed, with all those 
things round his neck, he probably sank immediately. We 
pulled astern in the direction in which he fell, and though 
we knew that there was no hope of saving him, yet no one 
wished to speak of returning, and we rowed about for 
nearly an hour without the hope of doing anything, but 
unwilling to acknowledge to ourselves that we must give 
him up. At length we turned the boat’s head and made 
towards the vessel. 

Death is at all times solemn, but never so much so as at 
sea. When a man falls overboard at sea and is lost, there 
is a suddenness in the event, and a difficulty in realizing it, 

28 


SUPERSTITIONS OF SAILORS 29 


which give to it an air of awful mystery. Then, too, at 
sea—to use a homely but expressive phrase—you miss a 
man so much. A dozen men are shut up together in a 
little bark upon the wide sea, and for months and months 
see no forms and hear no voices but their own; when one 
is taken suddenly from among them, they miss him at every 
turn. 

All these things make such a death peculiarly solemn, and 
the effect of it remains upon the crew for some time. There 
is more kindness shown by the officers to the crew, and by 
the crew to one another. There is more quietness and 
seriousness. The officers are more watchful, and the crew 
go more carefully aloft. The lost man is seldom mentioned, 
or is dismissed with a sailor’s rude eulogy—“Well, poor 
George is gone! His cruise is up soon! He knew his 
work, and did his duty, and was a good shipmate.” 

We had hardly returned on board with our sad report, 
before an auction was held of the poor man’s clothes. The 
captain had first, however, called all hands aft and asked 
them if they were satisfied that everything had been done 
to save the man, and if they thought there was any use in 
remaining there longer. The crew all said that it was in 
vain, for the man did not know how to swim, and was very 
heavily dressed. So we then filled away, and kept her off 
to her course. 

The laws regulating navigation make the captain an¬ 
swerable for the effects of a sailor who dies during the 
voyage, and it is either a law or a universal custom, estab¬ 
lished for convenience, that the captain should immediately 
hold an auction of his things, in which they are bid off by 
the sailors, and the sums which they give are deducted from 
their wages at the end of the voyage. Accordingly we had 
no sooner got the ship before the wind than his chest was 
brought up upon the forecastle, and the sale began. The 
jackets and trousers in which we had seen him dressed but 
a few days before were exposed and bid off while the life 
was hardly out of his body, and his chest was taken aft and 


30 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


used as a store-chest, so that there was nothing left which 
could be called his. 

The night after this event, when I went to the galley to 
get a light, I found the cook inclined to be talkative, so 1 sat 
down on the spars and gave him an opportunity to hold a 
yarn. He talked about George’s having spoken of his 
friends, and said he believed few men died without having 
a warning of it, which he supported by a great many stories 
of dreams, and the usual behaviour of men before death. 
From this he went on to other superstitions—the Flying 
Dutchman, &c.—and talked rather mysteriously, having 
something evidently on his mind. At length he put his 
head out of the galley and looked carefully about to see if 
any one was within hearing, and, being satisfied on that 
point, asked me, in a low tone: 

“I say, you know what countryman ’e carpenter be?” 

“Yes,” said I; “he’s a German.” 

“What kind of a German?” said the cook. 

“He belongs to Bremen,” said I. 

“Are you sure o’ dat?” said he. 

I satisfied him on that point by saying that he could 
speak no language but the German and English. 

“I’m plaguy glad o’ dat,” said the cook. “I was mighty 
’fraid he was a Finn.” 

I asked him the reason of this, and found that he was 
fully possessed with the notion that Finns are wizards, and 
especially have power over winds and storms. I tried to 
reason with him about it, but he had the best of all argu¬ 
ments, that from experience, at hand, and was not to be 
moved. He had been in a vessel at the Sandwich Islands in 
which the sailmaker was a Finn, and could do anything he 
felt inclined to do. This sailmaker kept a junk bottle in his 
berth, which was always just half full of rum, though he 
got drunk upon it nearly every day. 

He had heard of ships, too, beating up the Gulf of Fin¬ 
land against a head wind, and having a ship heave in sight 
astern, overhaul, and pass them, with as fair a wind as 


SUPERSTITIONS OF SAILORS 31 


could blow and all studding-sails out, and find she was from 
Finland. 

“Oh, oh,” said he; “I’ve seen too much of them men to 
want to see ’em ’board a ship.” 

As I still doubted, he said he would leave it to John, 
who was the oldest seaman aboard, and would know if 
anybody did. John, to be sure, was the oldest, and at the 
same time the most ignorant man in the ship; but I con¬ 
sented to have him called. The cook stated the matter to 
him, and John, as I anticipated, sided with the cook, and 
said that he himself had been in a ship where they had a 
head wind for a fortnight, and the captain found out at 
last that one of the men, whom he had had some hard words 
with a short time before, was a Finn, and immediately told 
him if he didn’t stop the head wind he would shut him 
down in the fore-peak. The Finn would not give in, and 
the captain shut him down in the fore-peak, and would not 
give him anything to eat. The Finn held out for a day and 
a half, when he could not stand it any longer, and did 
something or other which brought the wind round again, 
and they let him up. 

“There,” said the cook, “what do you think o’ dat?” 

I told him I had no doubt it was true, and that it would 
have been odd if the wind had not changed in fifteen days, 
Finn or no Finn. 


CHAPTER VI 


robinson crusoe’s island 

We sailed along with a fair wind and fine weather 
until— 

Tuesday, November 25 .—When at daylight we saw the 
Island of Juan Fernandez directly ahead, rising like a deep 
blue cloud out of the sea. We were then probably nearly 
seventy miles from it; and so high and so blue did it 
appear that I mistook it for a cloud resting over the island, 
and looked for the island under it until it gradually turned 
to a deader and greener colour, and I could mark the in¬ 
equalities upon its surface. At length we could distinguish 
trees and rocks; and by the afternoon this beautiful island 
lay fairly before us, and we directed our course to the only 
harbour, but owing to the winds, which drew about the 
mountains and came to us in flaws from every point of the 
compass, we did not come to an anchor until nearly mid¬ 
night. 

I was called on deck to stand my watch at about three 
in the morning, and I shall never forget the peculiar sensa¬ 
tion which I experienced on finding myself once more sur¬ 
rounded by land, feeling the night-breeze coming from off 
shore and hearing the frogs and crickets. 

When all hands were called it was nearly sunrise, and 
between that time and breakfast I had a good view of the 
objects about me. The harbour was nearly land-locked, 
and at the head of it was a landing-place, protected by a 
small break-water of stones, upon which two large boats 
were hauled up, with a sentry standing over them. Near 
this was a variety of huts or cottages, nearly a hundred in 
number, the best of them built of mud and whitewash, but 

32 


ROBINSON CRUSOE’S ISLAND 33 


the greater part only Robinson-Crusoe-like—of posts and 
branches of trees. The governor’s house was the most con¬ 
spicuous, being large, with grated windows, plastered walls, 
and roof of red tiles; yet, like all the rest, only of one story. 
Near it was a small chapel, distinguished by a cross, and 
a long, low, brown-looking building surrounded by some¬ 
thing like a palisade, from which an old and dingy-looking 
Chilian flag was flying. This was the Presidio. A sentinel 
was stationed at the chapel, another at the governor’s house, 
and a few soldiers, armed with bayonets, looking rather 
ragged, with shoes out at the toes, were strolling about 
among the houses, or waiting at the landing-place for our 
boat to come ashore. 

After breakfast, the second mate was ordered ashore with 
five hands to fill the water-casks, and, to my joy, I vVas 
among the number. We pulled ashore with the empty 
casks; and here again fortune favoured me, for the water 
was too thick and muddy to be put into the casks, and the 
governor had sent men up to the head of the stream to 
clear it out for us, which gave us nearly two hours of 
leisure. This leisure we employed in wandering about 
among the houses and eating a little fruit which was offered 
to us. Ground apples, melons, grapes, strawberries of an 
enormous size, and cherries abound here. The island be¬ 
longs to Chili, and had been used by the government as a 
sort of Botany Bay for nearly two years; and the governor— 
an Englishman who had entered the Chilian navy—with 
a priest, half-a-dozen task-masters, and a body of soldiers, 
were stationed there to keep the convicts in order. The 
worst part of them, I found, were locked up under sentry, 
in caves dug into the side of the mountain, nearly halfway 
up, with mule-tracks leading to them, whence they were 
taken by day and set to work under task-masters upon build¬ 
ing an aqueduct, a wharf, and other public works; while 
the rest lived in the houses which they put up for them¬ 
selves, had their families with them, and seemed to me to 
be the laziest people on the face of the earth. 


34 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 

Having filled our casks we returned on board, and soon 
after, the governor, dressed in a uniform like that of an 
American militia officer, the Padre, in the dress of the Grey 
Friars, with hood and all complete, and the Captain, with 
big whiskers and dirty regimentals, came on board to dine. 

A small boat which came from the shore to take away 
the governor and suite—as they styled themselves—brought, 
as a present to the crew, a large pail of milk, a few shells, 
and a block of sandal-wood. The milk, which was the first 
we had tasted since leaving Boston, we soon despatched; a 
piece of the sandal-wood I obtained, and learned that it 
grew on the hills in the centre of the island. 

About an hour before sundown, having stowed our water- 
casks, we commenced getting under way, and were not a 
little while about it; for we were in thirty fathoms water, 
and in one of the gusts which came from off shore had let 
go our other bow anchor; and as the southerly wind draws 
round the mountains and comes off in uncertain flaws, we 
were continually swinging round, and had thus got a very 
foul hawse. 

It was bright starlight when we were clear of the bay, 
and the lofty island lay behind us in its still beauty, and I 
gave a parting look and bade farewell to the most romantic 
spot of earth that my eyes had ever seen. I did then, and 
have ever since felt an attachment for that island, altogether 
peculiar. It was partly, no doubt, from its having been 
the first land that I had seen since leaving home, and still 
more from the associations which every one has connected 
with it in childhood from reading Robinson Crusoe. 

It is situated in about 30° 30' s., and is distant a little 
more than three hundred miles from Valparaiso, on the 
coast of Chili, which is in the same latitude. It is about 
fifteen miles in length and five in breadth. 

The island in the month of November, when we were 
there, being in all the freshness and beauty of spring, ap¬ 
peared covered with trees. These were chiefly aromatic, 
and the largest was the myrtle. The soil is very loose and 


ROBINSON CRUSOE’S ISLAND 35 


rich, and wherever it is broken up, there spring up imme¬ 
diately radishes, turnips, ground apples, and other garden 
fruits. Goats, we were told, were not abundant, and we 
saw none, though it was said we might if we had gone into 
the interior. 

It is perhaps needless to say that we saw nothing of the 
interior; but all who have seen it give very glowing accounts 
of it. 

A steady, though light southwesterly wind carried us 
well off from the island, and when I came on deck for the 
middle watch I could just distinguish it from its hiding a 
few low stars in the southern horizon, though my unprac¬ 
tised eyes would hardly have known it for land. At the 
close of the watch a few trade-wind clouds which had arisen, 
though we were hardly yet in their latitude, shut it out from 
our view, and the next day, 

Thursday , November 27.—Upon coming on deck in the 
morning, we were again upon the wide Pacific, and saw 
no more land until we arrived upon the western coast of the 
great continent of America. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE SAILORS HAVE A GRIEVANCE 

As we saw neither land nor sail from the time of leaving 
Juan Fernandez until our arrival in California, nothing of 
interest occurred except our own doings on board. We 
caught the southeast trades, and ran before them for nearly 
three weeks, without so much as altering a sail or bracing a 
yard. The captain took advantage of this fine weather to 
get the vessel in order for coming upon the coast. Every¬ 
thing was set up taut, the lower rigging rattled down, or 
rather, rattled up, an abundance of spun-yarn and seizing- 
stuff made, and finally the whole standing-rigging, fore and 
aft, was tarred down. This was my first essay at this 
latter business, and I had enough of it; for nearly all of it 

came upon my friend S- and myself. We put on short 

duck frocks, and, taking a small bucket of tar and a bunch 
of oakum in our hands, went aloft, one at the main royal- 
mast head, and the other at the fore, and began tarring 
down. This is an important operation, and is usually done 
about once in six months in vessels upon a long voyage. 
It was done in our vessel several times afterwards, but by 
the whole crew at once, and finished off in a day; but at this 
time, as most of it came upon two of us, and we were new in 
the business, it took us several days. In this operation they 
always begin at the mast-head, and work down, tarring the 
shrouds, back-stays, standing parts of the lifts, the ties, 
runners, &c., and go on to the yard-arms, and come in, 
tarring as they come, the lifts and foot-ropes. 

This dirty work could not last for ever; and on Saturday 
night we finished it, scraped all the spots from the deck and 
rails, and what was of more importance to us, cleaned our- 

36 



THE SAILORS HAVE A GRIEVANCE 37 


selves thoroughly, rolled up our tarry frocks and trousers, 
and laid them away for the next occasion, and put on our 
clean duck clothes, and had a good comfortable sailor’s 
Saturday night. The next day was pleasant, and indeed 
we had but one unpleasant Sunday during the whole voyage, 
and that was off Cape Horn, where we could expect nothing 
better. On Monday we commenced painting and getting 
the vessel ready for port. We painted her, both inside and 
out, from the truck to the water’s edge. In the midst of 
our painting, on— 

Friday, December 19 .—We crossed the equator for the 
second time. 

Thursday , December 25 .—This day was Christmas, but 
it brought us no holiday. The only change was that we had 
a “plum duff” for dinner, and the crew quarrelled with the 
steward because he did not give us our usual allowance of 
molasses to eat with it. He thought the plums would be 
a substitute for the molasses, but we were not to be cheated 
out of our rights in this way. 

Such are the trifles which produce quarrels on shipboard. 
In fact, we had been too long from port. We were getting 
tired of one another, and were in an irritable state, both 
forward and aft. Our fresh provisions were, of course, 
gone, and the captain had stopped our rice, so that we had 
nothing but salt beef and salt pork throughout the week, 
with the exception of a very small “duff” on Sunday. This 
added to the discontent, and a thousand little things, daily 
and almost hourly occurring, which no one who has not 
himself been on a long and tedious voyage can conceive of 
or properly appreciate, brought us into a state in which 
everything seemed to go wrong. 

In the midst of this state of things, my messmate S- 

and myself petitioned the captain for leave to shift our 
berths from the steerage, where we had previously lived, 
into the forecastle. This, to our delight, was granted, and 
we turned in to bunk and mess with the crew forward. 
We now began to feel like sailors, which we never did 



38 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


when we were in the steerage. While there, however 
useful and active you may be, you are but a mongrel. You 
are immediately under the eye of the officers, cannot dance, 
sing, play, smoke, make a noise, or growl , or take any other 
sailor’s pleasure; and you live with a steward, who is usually 
a go-between; and the crew never feel as though you were 
one of them. But if you live in the forecastle, you hear 
sailors’ talk, learn their ways, their peculiarities of feeling as 
well as speaking and acting; and, moreover, pick up a great 
deal of curious and useful information in seamanship, ships’ 
customs, foreign countries, &c., from their long yarns and 
equally long disputes. After I had been a week there, 
nothing would have tempted me to go back to my old berth, 
and never afterwards, even in the worst of weather, when 
in a close and leaking forecastle off Cape Horn, did I for 
a moment wish myself in the steerage. Another thing 
which you learn better in the forecastle than you can any¬ 
where else is to make and mend clothes, and this is indis¬ 
pensable to sailors. A large part of their watches below 
they spend at this work, and here I learned that art which 
stood me in so good stead afterwards. 

But to return to the state of the crew. Upon our coming 
into the forecastle there was some difficulty about the unit¬ 
ing of the allowances of bread, by which we thought we 
were to lose a few pounds. This set us into a ferment. The 
captain would not condescend to explain, and we went aft 
in a body, with a Swede, the oldest and best sailor of the 
crew, for spokesman. The recollection of the scene that 
followed always brings up a smile, especially the quarter¬ 
deck dignity and eloquence of the captain. He was walking 
the weather side of the quarter-deck, and, seeing us coming 
aft, stopped short in his walk, and with a voice and look 
intended to annihilate us, called out, “Well, what do you 
want now?” 

Whereupon we stated our grievances as respectfully as 
we could, but he broke in upon us, saying that we were 
getting fat and lazy, didn’t have enough to do, and that 


THE SAILORS HAVE A GRIEVANCE 39 


made us find fault. This provoked us, and we began to 
give word for word. This would never answer. He 
clinched his fist, stamped and swore, and sent us all forward, 
saying, with oaths enough interspersed to send the words 
home, “Away with you! Go forward, every one of you! 
I’ll haze you! I’ll work you up! You don’t have enough 

to do! . . . You’ve mistaken your man! I’m F- 

T-, all the way from ‘down east.’ I’ve been through 

the mill, ground and bolted, and come out a regular built 
down-east johnny-cake —good when it’s hot; but when it’s 
cold, sour and indigestible; and you’ll find me so!” 

So much for our petition for the redress of grievances. 
The matter was, however, set right, for the mate, after 
allowing the captain time to cool off, explained it to him; 
and at night we were all called aft to hear another harangue, 
in which, of course, the whole blame of the misunderstand¬ 
ing was thrown upon us. Thus the affair blew over, but the 
irritation caused by it remained, and we never had peace 
or good understanding again so long as the captain and 
crew remained together. 

Tuesday, January 13, 1835. —We made the land at Point 
Conception, lat. 34° 32' N., long. 120° 06' w. The port 
of Santa Barbara, to which we were bound, lying about sixty 
miles to the southward of this point, we continued sailing 
down the coast during the day and following night, and on 
the next morning, 

January 14, 1835. —We came to anchor in the spacious 
bay of Santa Barbara, after a voyage of one hundred and 
fifty days from Boston. 




CHAPTER VIII 


SANTA BARBARA 

California extends along nearly the whole of the west¬ 
ern coast of Mexico, between the Gulf of California in the 
south and the Bay of Sir Francis Drake on the north, or 
between the 22d and 38th degrees of north latitude. The 
bay of Santa Barbara is very large, being formed by the 
mainland on one side, which here bends in like a crescent, 
and three large islands opposite to it at the distance of 
twenty miles. This is just sufficient to give it the name of a 
bay, while at the same time it is so large and so much 
exposed to the southeast and northwest winds, that it is 
little better than an open roadstead; and the whole swell 
of the Pacific Ocean rolls in here before a southeaster and 
breaks with so heavy a surf in the shallow waters, that it is 
highly dangerous to lie near into the shore during the south¬ 
easter season, that is, between the months of November and 
April. 

This wind (the southeaster) is the bane of the coast 
of California. Between the months of November and April, 
which is the rainy season, you are never safe from it; and 
accordingly, in the ports which are open to it, vessels are 
obliged, during these months, to lie at anchor at a distance 
of three miles from the shore, with slip-ropes on their 
cables ready to slip and go to sea at a moment’s warning. 
The only ports which are safe from this wind are San 
Francisco and Monterey in the north, and San Diego in 
the south. 

As it was January when we arrived, and the middle of 
the southeaster season, we accordingly came to anchor at 
the distance of three miles from the shore, in eleven fathoms 
water. 


40 


SANTA BARBARA 


41 


After we had done this, the boat went ashore with the 
captain, and returned with orders to the mate to send a 
boat ashore for him at sundown. I did not go in the first 
boat, and was glad to find that there was another going 
before night; for after so long a voyage as ours had been, 
a few hours is long to pass in sight and out of reach of land. 

It was a beautiful day, and so warm that we had on straw 
hats, duck trousers, and all the summer gear; and as this 
was midwinter, it spoke well for the climate; we after¬ 
wards found that the thermometer never fell to the freez¬ 
ing-point throughout the winter, and that there was very 
little difference between the seasons, except that during a 
long period of rainy and southeasterly weather thick clothes 
were not uncomfortable. 

The large bay lay about us, nearly smooth, as there was 
hardly a breath of wind stirring, though the boat’s crew 
who went ashore told us that the long ground-swell broke 
into a heavy surf on the beach. There was only one vessel 
in the port—a long sharp brig of about three hundred tons, 
with raking masts, and very square yards, and English 
colours at her peak. We afterwards learned that she was 
built at Guayaquil, and named the Ayacucho, after the 
place where the battle was fought that gave Peru her inde¬ 
pendence, and was now owned by a Scotchman named 
Wilson, who commanded her, and was engaged in the trade 
between Callao, the Sandwich Islands, and California. 

She was a fast sailer, as we frequently afterward per¬ 
ceived, and had a crew of Sandwich Islanders on board. 

Two points ran out as the horns of the crescent, one of 
which—the one to the westward—was low and sandy, and 
is that to which vessels are obliged to give a wide berth when 
running out for a southeaster; the other is high, bold, and 
well wooded, and, we were told, has a mission upon it, 
called St. Buenaventura, from which the point is named. 
In the middle of this crescent, directly opposite the anchor¬ 
ing ground, lie the mission and town of Santa Barbara, 
on a low*, flat plain, but little above the level of sea, covered 


42 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


with grass, though entirely without trees, and surrounded 
on three sides by an amphitheatre of mountains, which slant 
off to the distance of fifteen or twenty miles. 

Just before sundown the mate ordered a boat’s crew 
ashore, and I went as one of the number. We passed under 
the stern of the English brig, and had a long puli 'ashore. 
I shall never forget the impression which our first landing 
on the beach of California made upon me. The sun had 
just gone down; it was getting dusky; the damp night-wind 
was beginning to blow, and the heavy swell of the Pacific 
was setting in, and breaking in loud and high “combers” 
upon the beach. We lay on our oars in the swell, just out¬ 
side of the surf, waiting for a good chance to run in, when 
a boat, which had put off from the Ayacucho just after us, 
came alongside of us, with a crew of dusky Sandwich 
Islanders, talking and hallooing in their outlandish tongue. 

They knew that we were novices in this kind of boating, 
and waited to see us go in. The second mate, however, 
who steered our boat, determined to have the advantage 
of their experience, and would not go in first. Finding at 
length how matters stood, they gave a shout, and taking 
advantage of a great comber which came swelling in, rearing 
its head, and lifting up the stern of our boat nearly per¬ 
pendicular, and again dropping it in the trough, they gave 
three or four long and strong pulls, and went in on top of 
the great wave, throwing their oars overboard and as far 
from the boat as they could throw them, and jumping out 
the instant that the boat touched the beach, and then seizing 
hold of her, and running her up high and dry upon the sand. 

We saw at once how it was to be done, and also the neces¬ 
sity of keeping the boat stern on to the sea; for the instant 
the sea should strike upon her broadside or quarter she 
would be driven up broadside on and capsized. We pulled 
strongly in, and as soon as we felt that the sea had got hold 
of us, and was carrying us in with the speed of a racehorse, 
we threw the oars as far from the boat as we could, and took 
hold of the gunwale, ready to spring out and seize her when 





_ „ 


2$ 

I . 











— •vj 



As soon as we felt that the sea had got hold of us. . .we threw the oars 

from the boat and took hold of the gunwale 








44 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


she struck, the officer using his utmost strength to keep her 
stern on. We were shot up upon the beach like an arrow 
from a bow, and seizing the boat, ran her up high and dry, 
and soon picked up our oars, and stood by her, ready for 
the captain to come down. 

Finding that the captain did not come immediately, we 
walked about the beach to see what we could of the place. 
It was growing dark, so that we could just distinguish the 
thin outlines of the two vessels in the offing. The Sand¬ 
wich Islanders had turned their boat round, and ran her 
down into the water, and were loading her with hides and 
tallow. As this was the work in which we were soon to be 
engaged, we looked on with some curiosity. They ran the 
boat into the water so far that every large sea might float 
her, and two of them, with their trousers rolled up, stood 
by the bows, one on each side, keeping her in her right 
position. This was hard 'vyork; for beside the force they 
had to use upon the boat, the large seas nearly took them 
off their legs. The others were running from the boat to 
the bank, upon which, out of the reach of the water, was a 
pile of dry bullocks’ hides, doubled lengthwise in the mid¬ 
dle, and nearly as stiff as boards. The^e they took upon 
their heads, one or two at a time, and carried down to the 
boat, where one of their number stowed them away. “Well, 
Dana,” said the second mate to me, “this does not look 
much like college, does it? But it is what I call head work ” 

After they had got through with the hides they laid 
hold of the bags of tallow, and lifting each upon the shoul¬ 
ders of two men, one at each end, walked off with them to 
the boat, and prepared to go aboard. Here, too, was some¬ 
thing for us to learn. The man who steered shipped his 
oar and stood up in the stern, and those that pulled the 
after oars sat upon their benches, with their oars shipped, 
ready to strike out as soon as she was afloat. The two men 
standing at the bows kept their places, and when at length a 
large sea came in and floated her, seized hold of the gun¬ 
wale and ran out with her till they were up to their arm- 


SANTA BARBARA 


45 


pits, and then tumbled over the gunwale into the bows 
dripping with water. The men at the oars struck out, but it 
wouldn’t do; the sea swept back and left them nearly high 
and dry. The two fellows jumped out again, and the 
next time they succeeded better, and with the help of a 
deal of outlandish hallooing and bawling got her well off. 

The sand of the beach began to be cold to our bare feet, 
the frogs set up their croaking in the marshes, and one 
solitary owl, from the end of the distant point, gave out his 
melancholy note, mellowed by the distance, and we began 
to think that it Was high time for the “old man” to come 
down. Presently the captain appeared; and we winded the 
boat round, shoved her down, and prepared to go off. The 
captain, who had been on the coast before and “knew the 
ropes,” took the steering oar, and we went off in the same 
way as the other boat. We went off well, though the seas 
were high. Some of them lifted us up, and, sliding from 
under us, seemed to let us drop through the air like a flat 
plank upon the body of the water. In a few minutes, we 
were in the low, regular swell, and pulled for a light, which, 
as we came up, we found had been run up to our trysail gaff. 

Coming aboard, we hoisted up all the boats, and, diving 
down into the forecastle, changed our wet clothes, and got 
our supper. After supper the sailors lighted their pipes, and 
we had to tell all we had seen ashore. At eight bells all 
hands were called aft, and the “anchor watch” set. We 
were to stand two in a watch, and, as the nights were pretty 
long, two hours were to make a watch. The second mate 
was to keep the deck until eight o’clock, all hands were to be 
called at daybreak, and the word was passed to keep a 
bright look-out, and to call the mate if it should come on 
to blow from the southeast. We had, also, orders to strike 
the bells every half hour through the night, as at sea. 

At daylight all hands were called, and we went through 
the usual process of washing down, swabbing, &c., and got 
breakfast at eight o’clock. In the course of the forenoon a 
boat went aboard of the Ayacucho and brought off a quarter 


46 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


of beef, which made us a fresh bite for dinner. This we 
were glad enough to have, and the mate told us that we 
should live upon fresh beef while we were on the coast, as 
it was cheaper here than the salt. 

The captain went ashore after dinner, and came off again 
at night. When in port everything is attended to by the 
chief mate; the captain, unless he is also supercargo, has 
little to do, and is usually ashore much of his time. This 
we thought would be pleasanter for us, as the mate was a 
good-natured man, and not very strict. So it was for a 
time, but we were worse off in the end; for wherever the 
captain is a severe, energetic man, and the mate is wanting 
in both these qualities, there will always be trouble. And 
trouble we had already begun to anticipate. The captain 
had several times found fault with the mate in presence of 
the crew, and hints had been dropped that all was not right 
between them. 


CHAPTER IX 


MONTEREY 

After a few days we made the land at Point Pinos 
which is the headland at the entrance of the bay of Monte- 
rey. As we drew in, and ran down the shore, we could 
distinguish well the face of the country, and found it better 
wooded than that to the southward of Point Concepcion. 

The bay of Monterey is very wide at the entrance, being 
about twenty-four miles between the two points, Ano Nuevo 
at the north, and Pinos at the south, but narrows gradually 
as you approach the town, which is situated in a bend or 
large cove at the southeastern extremity, and about eighteen 
miles from the points, which makes the whole depth of the 
bay. We came to anchor within two cable-lengths of the 
shore, and the town lay directly before us, making a very 
pretty appearance; its houses being plastered, which gives 
a much better effect than those of Santa Barbara, which 
are of a m;ud color. The red tiles, too, on the roofs con¬ 
trasted well with the white plastered sides, and with the 
extreme greenness of the lawn upon which the houses— 
about a hundred in number—were dotted about here and 
there irregularly. 

It was a fine Saturday afternoon when we came to 
anchor, the sun about an hour high, and everything looking 
pleasant. The Mexican flag was flying from the little 
square Presidio, and the drums and trumpets of the soldiers, 
who were out on parade, sounded over the water, and gave 
great life to the scene. Every one was delighted with the 
appearance of things. We felt as though we had got into 
a Christian country. 


47 


48 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


We landed the agent and passengers, and found several 
persons waiting for them on the beach, among whom were 
some who, though dressed in the costume of the country, 
spoke English, and who, we afterwards learned, were Eng¬ 
lish and Americans who had married and settled in the 
country. 


CHAPTER X 


TRAPING AT MONTEREY 

On Monday, the cargo having been entered in due form, 
we began trading. The trade-room was fitted up in the 
steerage, and furnished out with the lighter goods and with 

specimens of the rest of the cargo; and M-, a young 

man who came out from Boston with us before the mast, 
was taken out of the forecastle and made supercargo’s clerk. 
He was well qualified for the business, having been clerk 
in a counting-house in Boston. The people came off to 
look and buy—men, women, and children; and we were 
continually going in the boats, carrying goods and passen¬ 
gers—for they have no boats of their own. Everything 
must dress itself and come aboard and see the new vessel, 
if it were only to buy a paper of pins. 

Our cargo was an assorted one; that is, it consisted of 
everything under the sun. We had spirits of all kinds, teas, 
coffee, sugars, spices, raisins, molasses, hardware, crockery- 
ware, tinware, cutlery, clothing of all kinds, boots and shoes 
from Lynn, calicoes and cottons from Lowell, crapes, silks; 
also shawls, scarfs, necklaces, jewellery, and combs for the 
ladies; furniture, and, in fact, everything that can be imag¬ 
ined, from Chinese fireworks to English cart-wheels—of 
which we had a dozen pairs with their iron rims on. 

By being thus continually engaged in transporting pas¬ 
sengers with their goods to and fro we gained considerable 
knowledge of the character, dress, and language of the 
people. The women wore gowns of various textures— 
silks, crape, calicoes, &c.—made after the European style, 
except that the sleeves were short, leaving the arm bare. 
They wore shoes of kid or satin, sashes or belts of bright 

49 



50 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


colours, and almost always a necklace and ear-rings. Bon¬ 
nets they had none. They wear their hair (which is almost 
invariably black or a very dark brown) long in their necks, 
sometimes loose, and sometimes in long braids; though the 
married women often do it up on a high comb. 

Their only protection against the sun and weather is a 
large mantle which they put over their heads, drawing it 
close around their faces when they go out of doors, which 
is generally only in pleasant weather. When in the house, 
or sitting out in front of it, which they often do in fine 
weather, they usually wear a small scarf or neckerchief of 
a rich pattern. A band also about the top of the head, 
with a cross, star, or other ornament in front, is common. 
Their complexions are various, depending upon the amount 
of Spanish blood they can lay claim to. 

Next to the love of dress, I was most struck with the 
fineness of the voices and beauty of the intonations of 
both sexes. Every common ruffian-looking fellow, with a 
slouched hat, blanket cloak, dirty under-dress, and soiled 
leather leggings appeared to me to be speaking elegant 
Spanish. It was a pleasure simply to listen to the sound 
of the language before I could attach any meaning to it. 
A common bullock-driver on horseback delivering a message 
seemed to speak like an ambassador at an audience. In 
fact, they sometimes appeared to me to be a people on whom 
a curse had fallen, and stripped them of everything but their 
pride, their manners, and their voices. 

I had never studied Spanish while at college, and could 
not speak a word when at Juan Fernandez; but during the 
latter part of the passage out, I borrowed a grammar and 
dictionary from the cabin, and by a continual use of these, 
and a careful attention to every word that I heard spoken, 
I soon got a vocabulary together, and began talking for 
myself. As I soon knew more Spanish than any of the 
crew, and had been at college, and knew Latin, I got the 
name of a great linguist, and was always sent by the captain 
and officers to get provisions or to carry letters and messages 


TRADING AT MONTEREY 


51 


to different parts of the town. This was a good exercise 
for me, and no doubt taught me more than I should have 
learned by months of study and reading; it also gave me 
opportunities of seeing the customs of the people; beside 
being a great relief from the monotony of a day spent on 
board ship. 

But to return to Monterey. The houses here, as every¬ 
where else in California, are of one story, built of clay 
made into large bricks, about a foot and a half square, and 
three or four inches thick, and hardened in the sun. The 
floors are generally of earth, the windows grated and with¬ 
out glass, and the doors, which are seldom shut, open di¬ 
rectly into the common room, there being no entries. Some 
of the more wealthy inhabitants have glass to their windows 
and board floors; and in Monterey nearly all the houses are 
plastered on the outside. The better houses, too, have red 
tiles upon the roofs. The common ones have two or three 
rooms, which open into each other, and are furnished with 
a bed or two, a few chairs and tables, a looking-glass, a 
crucifix of some material or other, and small paintings 
enclosed in glass, and representing some miracle or martyr¬ 
dom. They have no chimneys or fire-places in the houses, 
the climate being such as to make a fire unnecessary; and 
all their cooking is done in a small cookhouse separated 
from the house. 

In Monterey there are a number of English and Amer¬ 
icans, who have married Californians and acquired con¬ 
siderable property. Having more industry, frugality, and 
enterprise than the natives, they soon get nearly all the trade 
into their hands. 

The men in Monterey appeared to me to be always on 
horseback. Horses are as abundant here as dogs and 
chickens were in Juan Fernandez. There are no stables 
to keep them in, but they are allowed to run wild, and 
graze wherever they please, being branded, and having long 
leather ropes, called “lassos,” attached to their necks, and 
dragging along behind them, by which they can easily be 


52 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


taken. The men usually catch one in the morning, throw 
a saddle and bridle upon him, and use him for the day, and 
let him go at night, catching another the next day. Whert 
they go on long journeys, they ride one horse down, and 
catch another, throw the saddle and bridle upon him, and 
after riding him down, take a third, and so on to the end 
of the journey. There are probably no better riders in 
the world. The stirrups are covered or boxed up in front, 
to prevent their catching when riding through the woods; 
and the saddles are large and heavy, strapped very tight 
upon the horse, and have pommels in front, round which 
the “lasso” is coiled when not in use. They can hardly go 
from one house to another without getting on a horse, there 
being generally several standing tied to the door-posts of 
the little cottages. When they wish to show their activity 
they make no use of their stirrups in mounting, but striking 
the horse, spring into the saddle as he starts, and sticking 
their long spurs into him, go off on the full run. 

The only vessel in port with us was the little Loriotte. 
I frequently went on board her, and became very well 
acquainted with her Sandwich Island crew. They were 
well formed and active, with black eyes, intelligent counte¬ 
nances, dark-olive or copper complexions, and coarse black 
hair, but not woolly like the negro’s. The language is 
extremely guttural, and not pleasant at first, but improves 
as you hear it more, and is said to have great capacity. They 
use a good deal of gesticulation, and are exceedingly ani¬ 
mated, saying with their might what their tongues find to 
say. They are complete water-dogs, and therefore very 
good in boating. They are also quick and active in the 
rigging, and good hands in warm weather; but those who 
have been with them round Cape Horn, and in high lati¬ 
tudes, say that they are useless in cold weather. In their 
dress they are precisely like our sailors. In addition to 
these Islanders, the vessel had two English sailors, who 
acted as boatswains over the Islanders, and took care of 
the rigging. 


TRADING AT MONTEREY 


53 


Sunday came again while we were at Monterey, but, as 
before, it brought us no holiday. The people on shore came 
off in greater numbers than ever, and we were employed 
all day in boating and breaking out cargo, so that we had 
hardly time to eat. Our former second mate, who was 
determined to get liberty if it was to be had, dressed him¬ 
self in a long coat and black hat, and polished his shoes, 
and went aft and asked to go ashore. He could not have 
done a more imprudent thing, for he knew that no liberty 
would be given; and besides, sailors, however sure they 
may be of having liberty granted them, always go aft in 
their working clothes, to appear as though they had no 
reason to expect anything, and then wash, dress, and shave, 
after they have got their liberty. We looked to see him 
go aft, knowing pretty well what his reception would be. 
The captain was walking the quarter-deck, smoking his 
morning cigar, and Foster went as far as the break of the 
deck, and there waited for him to notice him. 

The captain took two or three turns, and then walking 
directly up to him, surveyed him from head to foot, and 
lifting up his fore-finger, said a word or two, in a tone too 
low for us to hear, but which had a magical effect upon 
poor Foster. He walked forward, sprang into the fore¬ 
castle, and in a moment more made his appearance in his 
common clothes, and went quietly to work again. What 
the captain said to him we never could get him to tell, but 
it certainly changed him outwardly and inwardly in a most 
surprising manner. 


CHAPTER XI 


BACK TO SANTA BARBARA 

After a few days, finding the trade beginning to slacken, 
we hove our anchor up, set our topsails, ran the stars and 
stripes up to the peak, and left the little town astern, 
running out of the bay, and bearing down the coast again 
for Santa Barbara. As we were now going to leeward, we 
had a fair wind, and plenty of it. We passed Point Con¬ 
cepcion at a flying rate, the wind blowing so that it would 
have seemed half a gale to us if we had been going the 
other way and close hauled. As we drew near the islands 
of Santa Barbara it died away a little, but we came to at 
our old anchoring-ground in less than thirty hours from the 
time of leaving Monterey. 

Here everything was pretty much as we left it—the large 
bay without a vessel in it; the surf roaring and rolling in 
upon the beach; the white mission, the dark town, and the 
high, treeless mountains. We lay here about a fortnight, 
employed in landing goods and taking off hides occasionally 
when the surf was not high; but there did not appear to be 
one-half the business doing here that there was in Monterey. 

The hides are always brought down dry, or they would 
not be received. When they are taken from the animal 
they have holes cut in the ends, and are staked out, and 
thus dried in the sun without shrinking. They are then 
doubled once lengthwise with the hair side usually in, and 
sent down upon mules or in carts, and piled above high- 
water mark; and then we take them upon our heads and 
wade out with them, and throw them into the boat. We 
all provided ourselves with thick Scotch caps, which would 
be soft to the head, and at the same time protect it; for we 

54 


BACK TO SANTA BARBARA 


55 


soon found that however it might look or feel at first, the 
“headwork” was the only system for California. 

After we had got our heads used to the weight and had 
learned the true Californian style of tossing a hide , we 
could carry off two or three hundred in a short time with¬ 
out much trouble; but it was always wet work, and if the 
beach was stony, hard for our feet; for we, of course, always 
went bare-footed on this duty, as no shoes could stand such 
constant wetting with salt water. Then, too, we had a 
long pull of three miles with a loaded boat, which often 
took a couple of hours. 

We had now got well settled down into our harbour 
duties, which, as they are a good deal different from those 
at sea, it may be well enough to describe. In the first place, 
all hands are called at daylight, or rather—especially if the 
days are short—before daylight, as soon as the first grey of 
the morning. The cook makes his fire in the galley; the 
steward goes about his work in the cabin; and the crew rig 
the head pump, and wash down the decks. The washing 
lasts, or is made to last, until eight o’clock, when breakfast 
is ordered fore and aft. After breakfast, for which half 
an hour is allowed, the boats are lowered down and made 
fast astern, and the crew are turned-to upon their day’s 
work. This is various, and its character depends upon 
circumstances. There is always more or less of boating in 
small boats; and if heavy goods are to be taken ashore, or 
hides are brought down to the beach for us, then all hands 
are sent ashore with an officer in the long-boat. 

Then there is always a good deal to be done in the hold; 
goods to be broken out; and cargo shifted, to make room 
for hides, or keep the trim of the vessel. In addition to 
this, the usual work upon the rigging must be going on. 
The great difference between sea and harbour duty is in 
the division of time. Instead of having a watch on deck 
and a watch below, as at sea, all hands are at work together 
except at meal times, from daylight till dark; and at night 
an “anchor-watch” is kept. An hour is allowed for dinner; 


56 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


and at dark the decks are cleared up, the boats hoisted, 
supper ordered; and at eight the lights put out, except in 
the binnacle, where the glass stands and the anchor-watch 
is set. 

Thus when at anchor the crew have more time at night, 
but have no time to themselves in the day; so that reading, 
mending clothes, &c., has to be put off until Sunday, which 
is usually given. Some religious captains give their crews 
Saturday afternoons to do their washing and mending in 
so that they may have their Sundays free. We were well 
satisfied' if we got Sundays to ourselves, for if any hides 
came down on that day, as was often the case when they 
were brought from a distance, we were obliged to bring 
them off, which usually took half a day. 

But all these little vexations and labours would have 
been nothing were it not the uncertainty, or worse than 
uncertainty, which hung over the nature and length of 
our voyage. Here we were in a little vessel with a small 
crew on a half-civilized coast at the ends of the earth, and 
with the prospect of remaining an indefinite period, two or 
three years at the least. When we left Boston we supposed 
that it was to be a voyage of eighteen months, or two years 
at most; but upon arriving on the coast we learned some¬ 
thing more of the trade, and found that in the scarcity of 
hides, which was yearly greater and greater, it would take 
us a year at least to collect our own cargo, beside the pas¬ 
sage out and home, and that we were also to collect a cargo 
for a large ship belonging to the same firm which was soon 
to come on the coast, and to which we were to act as tender. 

The ship California , belonging to the same firm, had been 
nearly two years on the coast, had collected a full cargo, 
and was now at San Diego, from which port she was 
expected to sail in a few weeks for Boston; and we were 
to collect all the hides we could and deposit them at San 
Diego, when the new ship, which would carry forty thou¬ 
sand, was to be filled and sent home and then we were to 
begin anew and collect our own cargo. Here was a gloomy 


BACK TO SANTA BARBARA 


57 


prospect before us indeed. The California had been twenty 
months on the coast, and the Lagoda, a smaller ship, carry¬ 
ing only thirty-one or thirty-two thousand, had been two 
years getting her cargo, and we were to collect a cargo of 
forty thousand beside our own, which would be twelve or 
fifteen thousand. Besides, we were not provided for so 
long a voyage, and clothes and all sailors’ necessaries were 
excessively dear—three or four hundred per cent advance 
upon the Boston prices. This was bad enough for them, 
but still worse was it for me, who did not mean to be a 
sailor for life, having intended only to be gone eighteen 
months or two years. Three or four years would make 
me a sailor in every respect, mind and habits as well as 
body, and would put all my companions so far ahead of me 
that college and a profession would be in vain to think of. 

Beside the length of the voyage and the hard and exposed 
life, we were at the ends of the earth, in a country where 
there is neither law nor gospel, and where sailors are at 
their captain’s mercy, there being no American consul, or 
any one to whom a complaint could be made. We lost all 
interest in the voyage, cared nothing about the cargo, which 
we were only collecting for others, began to patch our 
clothes, and felt as though we were fixed beyond all hope 
of change. 

In addition to, and perhaps partly as a consequence of, 
this state of things, there was trouble brewing on board 
the vessel. Our mate was a worthy man—a more honest, 
upright, and kind-hearted man I never saw; but he was 
too good for the mate of a merchantman. He wanted 
the energy and spirit for such a voyage as ours and for 

such a captain. Captain T- was a vigorous, energetic 

fellow. During all the time that I was with him I never 
saw him sit down on deck. He was always active and 
driving, severe in his discipline, and expected the same of 
his officers. The mate not being enough of a driver for 
him, and being perhaps too easy with the crew, he was 
dissatisfied with him, became suspicious that discipline was 



58 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


getting relaxed, and began to interfere in everything. He 
drew the reins tauter, and in his attempt to remedy the 
difficulty by severity he made everything worse. Severity 
created discontent, and signs of discontent provoked severity. 

Many a time have I heard the sailors say that they should 
not mind the length of the voyage and the hardships if 
they were only kindly treated, and if they could feel that 
something was done to make things lighter and easier. But 
the contrary policy was pursued. We were kept at work 
all day when in port, which, together with a w^atch at night, 
made us glad to turn in as soon as we got below. Thus we 
got no time for reading or for washing and mending our 
clothes. And then, when we were at sea, sailing from port 
to port, instead of giving us “watch and watch,” as was the 
custom on board every other vessel on the coast, we were all 
kept on deck and at work, rain or shine, making spun-yarn 
and rope, and at other work in good weather, and picking 
oakum when it was too wet for anything else. 

While lying at Santa Barbara we encountered another 
southeaster, and, like the first, it came on in the night—the 
great black clouds coming from the southward, covering the 
mountain, and hanging down over the town, appearing 
almost to rest upon the roofs of the houses. We made sail, 
slipped our cable, cleared the point, and beat about for 
four days in the offing, under close sail, with continual 
rain and high seas and winds. On the fifth day it cleared 
up, and we found ourselves drifted nearly ten leagues from 
the anchorage, and, having light head winds, we did not 
return until the sixth day. Having recovered our anchor, 
we made preparations for getting under way to go down 
to leeward. Just before sailing the captain took on board 
a short, red-haired, round-shouldered, vulgar-looking fellow, 
who had lost one eye and squinted with the other, and, 
introducing him as Mr. Russell, told us that he was an 
officer on board. This was too bad. We had lost over¬ 
board on the passage one of the best of our number, another 
had been taken from us and appointed clerk; and thus 


BACK TO SANTA BARBARA 


59 


weakened and reduced, instead of shipping some hands to 
make our work easier, he had put another officer over us 
to watch and drive us. We had now four officers, and only 
six in the forecastle. 

Leaving Santa Barbara we coasted along down, the coun¬ 
try appearing level or moderately uneven, and for the most 
part sandy and treeless, until, doubling a high sandy point, 
we let go our anchor at a distance of three or three and a 
half miles from shore. As soon as everything was snug on 
board the boat was lowered, and we pulled ashore, our new 
officer, who had been several times in the port before, taking 
the place of steersman. 

As we drew in we found the tide low and the rocks 
and stones covered with kelp and seaweed, lying bare for 
the distance of nearly an eighth of a mile. Just in front 
of the landing, and immediately over it, was a t small hill 
which we had not perceived from our anchorage. Over this 
hill we saw three men come down, dressed partly like sailors 
and partly like Californians. When they came down to us 
we found that they were Englishmen, and they told us 
that they had belonged to a small Mexican brig which had 
been driven ashore here in a southeaster, and now lived 
in a small house just over the hill. Going up this hill with 
them, we saw just behind it a small, low building, with 
one room, containing a fireplace, cooking apparatus, &c., 
and the rest of it unfinished, and used as a place to store 
hides and goods. This, they told us, was built by some 
traders in the Pueblo (a town about thirty miles in the 
interior, to which this was the port), and used by them as 
a storehouse, and also as a lodging-place when they came 
down to trade with the vessels. 

These three men were employed by them to keep the 
house in order and to look out for the things stored in it. 
They said that they had been there nearly a year, and had 
nothing to do most of the time. The nearest house, they 
told us, wias a rancho or cattle-farm about three miles off; 
and one of them went up, at the request of our officer, to 


60 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


order a horse to be sent down, with which the agent, who 
was on board, might go up to the Pueblo. From one of 
them I learned a good deal in a few minutes’ conversation 
about the place, its trade, and the news from the southern 
ports. San Diego, he said, was about eighty miles to the 
leeward of San Pedro, that they had heard from there, by 
a Spaniard who came up on horseback, that the California 
had sailed for Boston, and that the Lagoda, which had been 
in San Pedro only a few weeks before, was taking in her 
cargo for Boston. 

I also learned, to my surprise, that the desolate-looking 
place we were in was the best place on the whole coast for 
hides. It was the only port for a distance of eighty miles, 
and about thirty miles in the interior was a fine plane 
country, filled with herds of cattle, in the centre of which 
w'as the Pueblo de los Angelos—the largest town in Cali¬ 
fornia—and several of the wealthiest missions, to all of 
which San Pedro was the seaport. 

The next day we pulled the agent ashore, and he went 
up to visit the Pueblo and the neighbouring missions; and 
in a few days, as the result of his labours, large ox-carts 
and droves of mules, loaded with hides, were seen coming 
over the flat country. We loaded our long-boat with goods 
of all kinds, light and heavy, and pulled ashore. After 
landing and rolling them over the stones upon the beach, 
we stopped, waiting for the carts to come down the hill 
and take them, but the captain soon settled the matter by 
ordering us to carry them all up to the top, saying that that 
was “California fashion.” So what the oxen would not 
do we were obliged to do. The hill was low, but steep, 
and the earth, being clayey and wet with the recent rains, 
was but bad holding-ground for our feet. The heavy barrels 
and casks we rolled up with some difficulty, getting behind 
and putting our shoulders to them; now and then our feet 
slipping added to the danger of the casks rolling back upon 
us. But the greatest trouble was with the large boxes of 
sugar. These we had to place upon oars, and, lifting them 


BACK TO SANTA BARBARA 


61 


up, rest the oars upon our shoulders and creep slowly up 
the hill with the gait of a funeral procession. After an 
hour or two of hard work we got them all up, and found 
the carts standing full of hides, which we had to unload, 
and also to load again with our own goods. 

Now the hides were to be got down, and for this purpose 
we brought the boat round to a place where the hill was 
steeper, and threw them down, letting them slide over the 
slope. Many of them lodged, and we had to let ourselves 
down and set them agoing again, and in this way got covered 
with dust, and our clothes torn. After we had got them 
all down we were obliged to take them on our heads and 
walk over stones, and through the water, to the boat. For 
several days we were employed in this manner until we 
had landed forty or fifty tons of goods, and brought on 
board about two thousand hides, when the trade began to 
slacken, and we were kept at work on board during the 
latter part of the week either in the hold or upon the 
rigging. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE CAPTAIN ENFORCES DISCIPLINE 

For several days the captain seemed very much out of 
humour. He quarrelled with the cook, and threatened to 
flog him for throwing wood on deck; and had a dispute 
with the mate about reeving a Spanish burton, the mate 
saying that he was right, and had been taught how to do it 
by a man who was a sailor! This the captain took in 
dudgeon, and they were at swords’ points at once. But 
his displeasure w T as chiefly turned against a large, heavy- 
moulded fellow, from the Middle States, who was called 
Sam. This man hesitated in his speech, and was rather 
slow in his motions, but was a pretty good sailor, and 
always seemed to do his best; but the captain took a dislike 
to him, found fault with everything he did, and hazed him 
for dropping a marline-spike from the main-yard, where he 
was at work. We worked late on Friday night, and were 
turned-to early on Saturday morning. About ten o’clock 
the captain ordered our new officer, Russell, to get the gig 
ready to take him ashore. John, the Swede, was sitting in 
the boat alongside, and Russell and myself were standing 
by the main hatchway, waiting for the captain, who was 
down in the hold, where the men were at work, when we 
heard his voice raised in violent dispute with somebody. 
Then came blows and scuffling. I ran to the side and 
beckoned to John, who came up, and we leaned on the 
hatchway, and though we could see no one, yet we knew 
that the captain had the advantage, for his voice was loud 
and clear:— 

“You see your condition! Will you ever give me any 
more of your jawf J No answer; and then came wrestling 

62 


CAPTAIN ENFORCES DISCIPLINE 63 


and heaving, as though the man was trying to turn him. 
“You may as well keep still, for I have got you,” said the 
captain. Then came the question, “Will you ever give me 
any more of your jaw?” 

“I never gave you any, sir,” said Sam; for it was his 
voice that we heard. 

“That’s not what I asked you. Will you ever be impu¬ 
dent to me again?” 

“I never have been, sir,” said Sam. 

“Answer my question, or I’ll make spread-eagle of you!” 

“I’m no negro slave,” said Sam. 

“Then I’ll make you one,” said the captain; and he 
came to the hatchway and sprang on deck, threw off his 
coat, and rolling up his sleeves, called out to the mate, 

“Seize that man up, Mr. A-! seize him up! Make a 

spread-eagle of him! I’ll teach you all who is master 
aboard!” 

The crew and officers followed the captain up the hatch¬ 
way, and after repeated orders the mate laid hold of Sam, 
who made no resistance, and carried him to the gangway. 

“What are you going to flog that man for, sir?” said 
John, the Swede, to the captain. 

Upon hearing this the captain turned upon him, but, 
knowing him to be quick and resolute, he ordered the 
steward to bring the irons, and calling upon Russell to help 
him, went up to John. 

“Let me alone,” said John. “You need not use any 
force;” and putting out his hands, the captain slipped the 
irons on, and sent him aft to the quarter-deck. Sam by this 
time was seized up —that is, placed against the shrouds, 
with his wrists made fast to the shrouds, his jacket off, 
and his back exposed. The captain stood on the break of 
the deck, a few feet from him, and a little raised, so as to 
have a good swing at him, and held in his hand the bight 
of a thick, strong rope. The officers stood round, and the 
crew grouped together in the waist. All these preparations 
made me feel sick and almost faint, angry and excited as I 



64 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


was. A man—a human being, made in God’s likeness— 
fastened up and flogged like a beast! 

The first and almost uncontrollable impulse was resist¬ 
ance. But what was to be done? The time for it had 
gone by. The two best men were fast, and there were only 
two beside myself, and a small boy of ten or twelve years 
of age. And then there were, beside the captain, three 
officers, steward, agent, and clerk. But beside the numbers, 
what is there for sailors to do? If they resist, it is mutiny; 
and if they succeed, and take the vessel, it is piracy. Bad 
as it was it must be borne. It is what a sailor ships for. 

Swinging the rope over his head, and bending his body 
so as to give it full force, the captain brought it down upon 
the poor fellow’s back. Once, twice—six times. “Will 
you ever give me any more of your jaw?” The man writhed 
with pain, but said not a word. Three times more. This 
was too much, and he muttered something which I could 
not hear. This brought as many more as the man could 
stand, when the captain ordered the man to be cut down 
and to go forward. 

“Now for you,” said the captain, making up to John, 
and taking his irons off. As soon as he was loose, he ran 
forward to the forecastle. “Bring that man aft!” shouted 
the captain. The second mate, who had been a shipmate 
of John’s, stood still in the waist, and the mate walked 
slowly forward; but our third officer, anxious to show his 
zeal, sprang over the windlass and laid hold of John; but 
he soon threw him from him. At this moment I would 
have given worlds for the power to help the poor fellow; 
but it was all in vain. The captain stood on the quarter¬ 
deck, bareheaded, his eyes flashing with rage, and his face 
as red as blood, swinging the rope, and calling out to his 
officers, “Drag him aft! lay hold of him! I’ll sweeten 
him!” 

The mate now went forward and told John quietly to 
go aft; and he, seeing resistance was in vain, threw the 
blackguard third mate from him, said he would go aft of 


CAPTAIN ENFORCES DISCIPLINE 65 


himself, that they should not drag him, and went up to 
the gangway and held out his hands; but as soon as the 
captain began to make him fast, the indignity was too much, 
and he began to resist; but the mate and Russell holding 
him, he was soon seized up. When he was made fast he 
turned to the captain, who stood turning up his sleeves and 
getting ready for the blow, and asked him what he was to 
be flogged for. “Have I ever refused my duty, sir? Have 
you ever known me to hang back, or to be insolent, or not 
to know my work?” 

“No,” said the captain; “it is not that that I flog you 
for; I flog you for your interference—for asking questions.” 

“Can’t a man ask a question here without being flogged ?” 

“No,” shouted the captain; “nobody shall open his mouth 
aboard this vessel but myself;” and began laying the blows 
upon his back, swinging half round between each blow to 
give it full effect. As he went on his passion increased, and 
he danced about the deck, calling out as he swung the rope, 
“If you want to know what I flog you for, I’ll tell you. 
It’s because I like to do it!—because I like to do it!—It 
suits me! That’s what I do it for!” 

The man writhed under the pain. My blood ran cold. 
I could look on no longer. Disgusted, sick, and horror- 
struck, I turned away and leaned over the rail and looked 
down into the water. A few rapid thoughts of my own 
situation, and of the prospect of future revenge crossed my 
mind; but the falling of the blows and the cries of the 
man called me back at once. At length they ceased, and, 
turning round, I found that the mate, at a signal from 
the captain, had cut him down. 

Almost doubled up with pain the man walked slowly 
forward, and went down into the forecastle. Every one 
else stood still at his post, while the captain, swelling with 
rage and with the importance of his achievement, walked 
the quarter-deck, and at each turn, as he came forward, 
calling out to us, “You see your condition! You see where 
Tve got you all, and you know what to expect! You’ve 


66 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


been mistaken in me—you didn’t know what I was! Now 
you know what I am!—I’ll make you toe the mark, every 
soul of you, or I’ll flog you all, fore and aft, from the boy 
up!—You’ve got a driver over you! Yes, a slave driver — 
a negro driver!” 

With this and the like matter, equally calculated to quiet 
us, and to allay any apprehensions of future trouble, he 
entertained us for about ten minutes, when he went below. 
Soon after John came aft, with his bare back covered with 
stripes and wales in every direction, and dreadfully swollen, 
and asked the steward to ask the captain to let him have 
some salve or balsam to put upon it. 

“No,” said the captain, who heard him from below; 
“tell him to put his shirt on; that’s the best thing for him; 
and pull me ashore in the boat. Nobody is going to lay-up 
on board this vessel.” He then called Mr. Russell to take 
those two men and two others in the boat and pull him 
ashore. I went for one. The two men could hardly bend 
their backs, and the captain called to them to “give way, 
give way!” but finding they did their best he let them alone. 

The agent was in the stern-sheets, but during the whole 
pull not a word was spoken. We landed; the captain, 
agent, and officer went up to the house, and left us with 
the boat. I, and the man with me, stayed near the boat, 
while John and Sam walked slowly away and sat down on 
the rocks. They talked some time together, but at length 
separated, each sitting alone. 

After the day’s work was done we went down into the 
forecastle and ate our supper, but not a word was spoken. 
It was Saturday night, but there was no song—no “sweet¬ 
hearts and wives.” A gloom was over everything. The 
two men lay in their berths groaning with pain, and we 
all turned in—but, for myself, not to sleep. A sound com¬ 
ing now and then from the berths of the two men showed 
that they were awake, as awake they must have been, for 
they could hardly lie in one posture a moment; the dim, 
swinging lamp of the forecastle shed its light over the dark 


CAPTAIN ENFORCES DISCIPLINE 67 


hole in which we lived; and many and various reflections 
and purposes coursed through my mind. I thought of our 
situation, living under a tyranny; of the character of the 
country we were in; of the length of the voyage, and of 
the uncertainty attending our return to America; and then, 
if we should return, of the prospect of obtaining justice 
and satisfaction for these poor men; and vowed that, if ever 
I should have the means, I would do something to redress 
the grievances and relieve the sufferings of that poor class 
of beings of whom I then was one. 

The next day was Sunday. We worked as usual, wash¬ 
ing decks, &c., until breakfast-time. After breakfast we 
pulled the captain ashore, and finding some hides there 
which had been brought down the night before, he ordered 
me to stay ashore and watch them, saying that the boat 
w’ould come again before night. They left me; and T spent 
a quiet day on the hill, eating dinner with the three men 
at the little house. Unfortunately, they had no books; and 
after talking with them and walking about I began to grow 
tired of doing nothing. 

I looked anxiously for a boat during the latter part of 
the afternoon, but none came until toward sundown, when 
I saw a speck on the water, and as it drew near I found 
it was the gig with the captain. The hides, then, were not 
to go off. The captain came up the hill, with a man bring¬ 
ing my monkey jacket and a blanket. He looked pretty 
black, but inquired whether I had enough to eat, told me 
to make a house out of the hides and keep myself warm, 
as I should have to sleep there among them, and to keep 
good watch over them. I got a moment to speak to the 
man who brought my jacket. 

“How do things go aboard?” said I. 

“Bad enough,” said he; “hard work, and not a kind 
word spoken.” 

“What,” said I, “have you been at work all day?” 

“Yes! no more Sunday for us. Everything has been 


68 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


moved in the hold from stem to stern and from the water¬ 
ways to the keelson.” 

I went up to the house to supper. After our meal the 
three men sat down by the light of a tallow candle, with 
a pack of greasy Spanish cards, to the favourite game of 
“treinta uno,” a sort of Spanish “everlasting.” I left them 
and went out to take up my bivouac among the hides. It 
was now dark, the vessel was hidden from sight, and except 
the three men in the house there was not a living soul within 
a league. The coyotes (a wild animal of a nature and 
appearance between that of the fox and the wolf) set up 
their sharp, quick bark, and two owls, at the end of two 
distant points running out into the bay, on different sides of 
the hill where I lay, kept up their alternate dismal notes. 
Mellowed by the distance, and heard alone at night, I 
thought it was the most melancholy, boding sound I had 
ever heard. Through nearly all the night they kept it up, 
answering one another slowly at regular intervals. The 
next morning, before sunrise, the long-boat came ashore, 
and the hides were taken off. 

We lay at San Pedro about a week, engaged in taking 
off hides and in other labours, which had now become our 
regular duties. I spent one more day on the hill, watching 
a quantity of hides and goods, and this time succeeded in 
finding a part of a volume of Scott’s Pirate in a corner of 
the house, but it failed me at a most interesting moment, 
and I betook myself to my acquaintances on shore, and 
from them learned a good deal about the customs of the 
country, the harbours, &c. 

On board the Pilgrim everything went on regularly, each 
one trying to get along as smoothly as possible; but the 
comfort of the voyage was evidently at an end. 

The flogging was seldom if ever alluded to by us in the 
forecastle. If any one was inclined to talk about it, the 
others, with a delicacy which I hardly expected to find 
among them, always stopped him or turned the subject. 
But the behaviour of the two men who were flogged toward 


CAPTAIN ENFORCES DISCIPLINE 69 


one another showed a delicacy and a sense of honour which 
would have been worthy of admiration in the highest walks 
of life. Sam knew that the other had suffered solely on 
his account, and in all his complaints he said that if he 
alone had been flogged it would have been nothing, but 
that he never could see that man without thinking that he 
had been the means of bringing that disgrace upon him; 
and John never, by word or deed, let anything escape him 
to remind the other that it was by interfering to save his 
shipmate that he had suffered. 

Having got all our spare room filled with hides, we hove 
up our anchor and made sail for San Diego. In no opera¬ 
tion can the disposition of a crew be discovered better than 
in getting under way. Where things are done “with a 
will” every one is like a cat aloft, sails are loosed in an 
instant, each one lays out his strength on his handspike, 
and the windlass goes briskly round with the loud cry of 
“Yo, heave ho! Heave and pawl! Heave hearty, ho.” 
But with us at this time it was all dragging work. The 
mate, between the knightheads, exhausted all his official 
rhetoric in calls of “Heave with a will!” “Heave hearty, 
men!—heave hearty!” “Heave and raise the dead!” “Heave 
and away!” but it would not do. Nobody broke his back 
or his handspike by his efforts. And when the cat-tackle- 
fall was strung along, and all hands—cook, steward, and 
all—laid hold to cat the anchor, instead of the lively song 
of “Cheerily, men!” in which all hands join in the chorus, 
we pulled a long, heavy, silent pull, and the anchor came 
to the cat-head pretty slowly. “Give us ‘Cheerily!’ ” said 
the mate; but there was no “cheerily” for us, and we did 
without it. The captain walked the quarter-deck and said 
not a word. 

We sailed leisurely down the coast before a light fair 
wind, keeping the land well aboard, and saw two other 
missions, looking like blocks of white plaster, shining in 
the distance. At sunset on the second day, we had a large 
and well-wooded headland directly before us, behind which 


70 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 

lay the little harbour of San Diego. We were becalmed off 
this point all night; but the next morning, which was Satur¬ 
day, March 14, having a good breeze, we stood round the 
point, and hauling our wind, brought the little harbour, 
which is rather the outlet of a small river, right before us. 
A chain of high hills, beginning at the point (which was 
on our larboard hand, coming in), protected the harbour 
on the north and west and ran off into the interior as far 
as the eye could reach. On the other sides the land was 
low and green, but without trees. 

The entrance is so narrow as to admit but one vessel 
at a time, the current swift, and the channel runs so near 
to a low stony point that the ship’s sides appeared almost to 
touch it. There was no town in sight; but on the smooth 
sand-beach, abreast, and within a cable’s-length of which 
three vessels lay moored, were four large houses, built of 
rough boards, with piles of hides standing round them, and 
men in red shirts and large straw hats walking in and out 
of the doors. These were the hide-houses. 

Of the vessels, one we recognized as our old acquaintance 
the Loriotte; another, newly painted and tarred, and glit¬ 
tering in the morning sun, with the blood-red banner and 
cross of St. George at her peak, was the handsome Ayacucho. 
The third was a large ship, with topgallant-masts housed, 
and sails unbent, and looking as rusfy and worn as two 
years’ “hide droghing” could make her. This was the 
Lagoda. As we drew near we overhauled our anchor and 
clewed up the topsails. “Let go the anchor!” said the 
captain, but either there was not chain enough forward of 
the windlass, or the anchor went down foul, or w~e had 
too much headway on, for it did not bring us up. “Pay 
out chain!” shouted the captain; and we gave it to her; 
but it would not do. Before the other anchor could be let 
go, we drifted down, broadside on, and went smash into 
the Lagoda. 

Fortunately no great harm was done. Her jib-boom ran 
between our fore and main-masts, carrying away some of 


CAPTAIN ENFORCES DISCIPLINE 71 


our rigging, and breaking down the rail. She lost her 
martingale. This brought us up; and as they paid out 
chain we swung clear of them, and let go the other anchor; 
but this had as bad luck as the first, for before any one 
perceived it, we were drifting on to the Loriotte. The 
captain now gave out his orders rapidly and fiercely, but 
it was all in vain; and he sat down on the rail, taking it 
very leisurely, and calling out to Captain Nye that he was 
coming to pay him a visit. We drifted fairly into the 
Loriotte , her larboard bow into our starboard quarter, 
carrying away a part of our starboard quarter railing, and 
breaking off her larboard bumpkin, and one or two stanch¬ 
ions above the deck. After paying out chain we swung 
clear, but our anchors were no doubt afoul of hers. 

We now began to drift down toward the Ayacucho, when 
her boat put off, and brought her commander, Captain 
Wilson, on board. He was a short, active, well-built man, 
between fifty and sixty years of age; and being nearly thirty 
years older than our captain, he did not hesitate to give 
his advice, and from giving advice, he gradually came to 
taking the command. 

We had no objections to this state of things; for Wilson 
was a kind old man, and had an encouraging and pleasant 
way of speaking to us, which made everything go easily. 
After two or three hours of constant labour at the windlass, 
heaving and “Yo ho!”-ing with all our might, we brought 
up an anchor, with the Loriotte's small bower fast to it. 
Having cleared this and let it go, we got out our other 
anchor, which had dragged half over the harbour. “Now,” 
said Wilson, “I’ll find you a good berth”; and setting both 
the topsails, he carried us down, and brought us to anchor, 
in handsome style, directly abreast of the hide-house which 
we were to use. Having done this, he took his leave, while 
we furled the sails, and got our breakfast. After breakfast 
and until night we were employed in getting out the boats 
and mooring ship. 

After supper two of us took the captain on board the 


72 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


Lagoda. As he came alongside, he gave his name; and the 
mate, in the gangway, called out to the captain down the 

companion-way—“Captain T- has come aboard, sir!” 

“Has he brought his brig with him?” said the rough old 
fellow, in a tone which made itself heard fore and aft. 
The captain went down into the cabin, and we walked 
forward and put our heads down the forecastle, where we 
found the men at supper. “Come down, shipmates! come 
down!” said they as soon as they saw us; and we went 
down, and found a large high forecastle, well lighted, and 
a crew of twelve or fourteen men, eating out of their kids 
and pans, and drinking their tea and talking and laughing, 
all as independently and easy as so many “wood-sawyers’ 
clerks.” 

We spent an hour or two with them, talking over Cali¬ 
fornia matters, until the word was passed—“Pilgrims 
away!”—and we went back with our captain to the brig. 



CHAPTER XIII 


a sailor’s liberty 

The next day being Sunday, after washing and clearing 
decks, and getting breakfast, the mate came forward with 
leave for one watch to go ashore on liberty. We drew lots, 
and it fell to the larboard* which I was in. Instantly all 
was preparation. Buckets of fresh water (which we were 
allowed in port), and soap, were put in use; go-ashore 
jackets and trousers got out and brushed; pumps, necker¬ 
chiefs, and hats overhauled; one lending to another; so that 
among the whole each one got a good fit-out. A boat was 
called to pull the “liberty-men” ashore, and we sat down 
in the stern-sheets, “as big as pay-passengers,” and jumping 
ashore, set out on our walk for the town, which was nearly 
three miles off. 

I shall never forget the delightful sensation of being in 
the open air, with the birds singing around me, and escaped 
from the confinement, labour, and strict rule of a vessel—of 
being once more in my life, though only for a day, my own 
master. A sailor’s liberty is but for a day; yet while it 
lasts it is perfect. He is under no one’s eye, and can do 
whatever, and go wherever, he pleases. This day, for the 
first time, I may truly say, in my whole life, I felt the 
meaning of a term which I had often heard—the sweets of 
liberty. It was wonderful how the prospect brightened, 
and how short and tolerable the voyage appeared, when 
viewed in this new light. Things looked differently from 
what they did when we talked them over in the little dark 
forecastle the night after the flogging at San Pedro. 

S- and myself determined to keep as much together 

73 



74 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


as possible, though we knew that it would not do to cut our 
shipmates; for, knowing our birth and education, they were 
a little suspicious that we would try to put on the gentle¬ 
man when we got ashore, and would be ashamed of their 
company; and this won’t do* with Jack. Our crew fell in 
with some men who belonged to the other vessels and, 
sailor-like, steered for the first grog-shop. This was a small 
mud-building, of only one room, in which were liquors, dry 
and West India goods, shoes, bread, fruits, and everything 

which is vendible in California. S- and I followed in 

our shipmates’ wake, knowing that to refuse to drink with 
them would be the highest affront, but determining to slip 
away at the first opportunity. 

Having at length gone through our turns, and acquitted 
ourselves of all obligations, we slipped out, and went about 
among the houses, endeavouring to get horses for the day, 
so that we might ride round and see the country. At first 
we had but little success; but after several efforts we fell 
in with a little Sandwich Island boy, who belonged to Cap¬ 
tain Wilson of the Ayacucho, and was well acquainted 
with the place; he, knowing where to go, soon procured us 
two horses, ready saddled and bridled, each with a lasso 
coiled over the pommel. Mounted on our horses, which 
were spirited beasts, we started off on a fine run over the 
country. The first place we went to was the old ruinous 
Presidio, which stands on a rising ground near the village, 
which it overlooks. From the Presidio we rode off in the 
direction of the mission, which we were told was three miles 
distant. 

After a pleasant ride of a couple of miles we saw the 
white walls of the mission, and fording a small river we 
came directly before it. There was something decidedly 
striking in its appearance: a number of irregular buildings, 
connected with one another, and disposed in the form of a 
hollow square, with a church at one end, rising above the 
rest, with a tower containing five belfries, in each of which 
hung a large bell, and with an immense rusty iron cross at 



A SAILOR’S LIBERTY 


75 


the top. Just outside of the buildings, and under the walls, 
stood twenty or thirty small huts, built of straw and of the 
branches of trees, in which a few Indians lived, under the 
protection and in the service of the mission. 

Entering a gateway, we rode into the open square, in 
which the stillness of death reigned. Not a living creature 
could we see. We rode twice round the square in the 
hope of waking up some one; and in one circuit saw a tall 
monk, with shaven head, sandals, and the dress of the Grey 
Friars, pass rapidly through a gallery, but he disappeared 
without noticing us. After two circuits we stopped our 
horses, and saw at last a man show himself in front of one 
of the small buildings. We rode up to him and found him 
dressed in the common dress of the country, with a silver 
chain round his neck supporting a large bunch of keys. 
From this we took him to be the steward of the mission, and 
addressing him as “Mayordomo” received a low bow and 
an invitation to walk into his room. It was a plain room, 
containing a table, three or four chairs, a small picture or 
two, and a few dishes and glasses. 

The steward went off to another building, across the 
court, and returned in a few moments with a couple of 
Indian boys, bearing dishes and a decanter of wine. The 
dishes contained baked meats, frijoles stewed with peppers 
and onions, boiled eggs, and a kind of macaroni. These, 
together with the wine, made the most sumptuous meal we 
had eaten since we left Boston. After despatching our 
meal, we took out some money and asked him how much 
we were to pay. He shook his head, and crossed himself, 
saying that it was charity—the Lord gave it to us. We 
gave him ten or twelve reals , which he pocketed with admi¬ 
rable nonchalance. Taking leave of him we rode out to the 
Indians’ huts. 

Leaving the mission we returned to the village, going 
nearly all the way on a full run. The Californian horses 
have no medium gait which is pleasant between walking and 
running; for as there are no streets and parades they have 


76 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


no need of the genteel trot, and their riders usually keep 
them at the top of their speed until they are tired and then 
let them rest themselves by walking. The fine air of the 
afternoon, the rapid rate of the animals, who seemed almost 
to fly over the ground, and the excitement and novelty of 
the motion to us who had been so long confined on ship¬ 
board, were exhilarating beyond expression and we felt 
willing to ride all day long. Coming into the village we 
found things looking very lively. The Indians, who always 
have a holiday on Sunday, were engaged at playing a kind 
of running game of ball on a level piece of ground near the 
houses. Several blue-jackets were reeling about among the 
houses, which showed that the pulperias had been well 
patronized. One or two of the sailors had got on horse¬ 
back, but being rather indifferent horsemen, and the Span¬ 
iards having given them vicious horses, they were soon 
thrown, much to the amusement of the people. A half- 
dozen Sandwich Islanders, who are bold riders, were dash¬ 
ing about on the full gallop, hallooing and laughing like so 
many wild men. 

It was now nearly sundown, and S-and myself went 

into a house and sat quietly down to rest ourselves before 
going down to the beach. Thus ended our first liberty- 
day on shore. We were well tired, but had had a pleasant 
holiday, and were more willing to go back to our old duties. 



CHAPTER XIV 


LANDING HIDES AT SAN DIEGO 

The next sound that we heard was “All hands ahoy!” 
and looking up the scuttle, saw that it was just daylight. 
Our liberty had now truly taken flight, and putting on old 
duck trousers, red shirts, and Scotch caps, we began taking 
out and landing our hides. For three days we were hard 
at work in this duty, from the grey of the morning until 
starlight, with the exception of a short time allowed for 
meals. We took possession of one of the hide-houses, which 
belonged to our firm, and had been used by the California. 
It was built to hold forty thousand hides, and we had the 
pleasing prospect of filling it before we could leave the 
coast; and tow'ard this, our thirty-five hundred, which we 
brought down with us, would do but little. 

The hides, as they come rough and uncured from the 
vessels, are piled up outside of the houses, whence they are 
taken and carried through a regular process of picking, 
drying, cleaning, &c., and stowed away in the house, ready 
to be put on board. This process is necessary in order that 
they may keep during a long voyage and in warm latitudes. 
For the purpose of curing and taking care of these hides an 
officer and a part of the crew of each vessel are usually left 
ashore; and it was for this business, we found, that our new 
officer had joined us. As soon as the hides were landed he 
took charge of the house, and the captain intended to leave 
two or three of us with him, hiring Sandwich Islanders to 
take our places on board; but he could not get any Sand¬ 
wich Islanders to go, though he offered them fifteen dollars 
a month; for the report of the flogging had got among them, 
and he was called “aole maikai” (no good), and that was 

77 


78 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


an end of the business. They were, however, willing to 
work on shore, and four of them were hired and put with 
Mr. Russell to cure the hides. 

After landing our hides we next sent ashore all the stores 
which we did not want to use in the course of one trip to 
windward, so as to make room for hides; among other things 
the pig-sty, and with it “Old Bess.” This was an old sow 
that we had brought from Boston, and which lived to get 
round Cape Horn, where all the other pigs died from cold 
and wet. She had been the pet of the cook during the whole 
passage, and he had fed her with the best of everything, and 
taught her to do a number of strange tricks for his amuse¬ 
ment. It almost broke our poor darky s heart when he 
heard that Bess was to be taken ashore. He had depended 
upon her as a solace during the long trips up and down 
the coast. 

We got a whip up on the mainyard, and hooking it to a 
strap round her body, swayed away; and giving a wink to 
one another, ran her chock up to the yard-arm. “ ’Vast 
there! ’vast!” said the mate; “none of your skylarking! 
Lower away!” But he evidently enjoyed the joke. The 
pig squealed like the “crack of doom,” and tears stood in 
the poor darky’s eyes, and he muttered something about 
having no pity on a dumb beast. “Dumb beast!” said Jack; 
“if she’s what you call a dumb beast, then my eyes a’n’t 
mates.” This produced a laugh from all but the cook. He 
was too intent upon seeing her safe in the boat. He 
watched her all the way ashore, where, upon her landing, 
she was received by a whole troop of her kind who had 
been set ashore from the other vessels. From the door of 
his galley the cook used to watch them in their manoeuvres, 
setting up a shout and clapping his hands whenever Bess 
came off victorious in the struggle for pieces of raw hide 
and half-picked bones which were lying about the beach. 
We told him that he thought more about the pig than he 
did about his wife; and indeed he could hardly have been 
more attentive, for he actually on several nights after dark 


LANDING HIDES AT SAN DIEGO 79 


when he thought he would not be seen sculled himself 
ashore in a boat with a bucket of nice swill. 

The next Sunday the other half of our crew went ashore 
on liberty and left us on board to enjoy the first quiet Sun¬ 
day which we had had upon the coast. We washed and 
mended our clothes in the morning and spent the rest of 
the day in reading and writing. Several of us wrote letters 
to send home by the Lagoda. 

At the close of the week we were ready to sail, but were 
delayed a day or two by the running away of Foster, the 
man who had been our second mate. From the time that 
he was “broken” he had had a dog’s berth on board the 
vessel and determined to run away at the first oppor¬ 
tunity. Having shipped for an officer when he was not half 
a seaman, he found little pity with the crew and was not 
man enough to hold his ground among them. He had had 
several difficulties with the captain and asked leave to go 
home in the Lagoda; but this was refused him. One night 
he was insolent to an officer on the beach, and refused to 
come aboard in the boat. He was reported to the captain; 
and as he came on board—it being past the proper hour—he 
was called aft and told that he was to have a flogging. 
Immediately he fell down on the deck, calling out, “Don’t 

flog me, Captain T-; don’t flog me!” and the captain, 

angry with him and disgusted with his cowardice, gave him 
a few blows over the back with a rope’s-end and sent him 
forward. He was not much hurt, but a good deal fright¬ 
ened and made up his mind to run away that very night. 

This was managed better than anything he ever did in his 
life, and seemed really to show some spirit and forethought. 
He gave his bedding and mattress to one of the Lagoda’s 
crew, who took it aboard his vessel as something which he 
had bought, and promised to keep it for him. He then 
unpacked his chest, putting all his valuable clothes into a 
large canvas bag, and told one of us, who had the watch, 
to call him at midnight. Finding no officer on deck, and 
all still aft, he lowered his bag into a boat, got softly down 



80 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


into it, cast off the painter, and let it drop down silently 
with the tide until he was out of hearing, when he sculled 
ashore. 

The next morning when all hands were mustered there 
was a great stir to find Foster. Of course we would tell 
nothing; and all they could discover was that he had left 
an empty chest behind him, and that he went off in a boat. 
After breakfast the captain went up to the town and offered 
a reward of twenty dollars for him; and for a couple of 
days the soldiers, Indians, and all others who had nothing 
to do were scouring the country for him on horseback, but 
without effect; for he was safely concealed all the time 
within fifty rods of the hide-houses. 

As soon as he had landed, he went directly to the Lagodas 
hide-house; and a part of her crew who were living there 
on shore promised to conceal him and his traps until the 
Pilgrim should sail, and then to intercede with Captain 
Bradshaw to take him on board his ship. Just behind the 
hide-houses, among the thickets and underwood, was a small 
cave, the entrance to which was known only to the two 
men on the beach. To this cave he was carried before day¬ 
break in the morning, and supplied with bread and water, 
and there remained until he saw us under way and well 
round the point. 

Friday } March 27.—The captain, having given up all 
hope of finding Foster, gave orders for unmooring ship, and 
we made sail, dropping slowly down with the tide. The 
wind, which was very light, died away soon after we 
doubled the point, and we lay becalmed for two days. On 
the third day about noon a cool sea-breeze came rippling 
and darkening the surface of the water, and by sundown 
we were off St. Juan’s. Our crew was now considerably 
weakened. Yet there was not one who was not glad that 
Foster had escaped; for shiftless and good-for-nothing as he 
was, no one could wish to see him dragging on a miserable 
life, cowed down and disheartened; and we were all re¬ 
joiced to hear, upon our return to San Diego about two 


LANDING HIDES AT SAN DIEGO 81 


months afterwards, that he had been immediately taken 
aboard the Lagoda. 

After a slow passage of five days, we arrived on Wednes¬ 
day, the first of April, at our old anchoring ground at San 
Pedro. In a few days the hides began to come slowly 
down, and we got into the old business of rolling goods up 
the hill, pitching hides down, and pulling our long league 
off and on. 

On board things went on in the common monotonous 
way. The excitement which immediately followed the 
flogging scene had passed off, but the effect of it upon the 
crew, and especially upon the two men themselves, remained. 

After a stay of about a fortnight, during which we slipped 
for one southeaster, and were at sea two days, we got under 
way for Santa Barbara. 


CHAPTER XV 


A CALIFORNIA EASTER 

The next Sunday was Easter Day, and as there had been 
no liberty at San Pedro, it was our turn to go ashore and 
misspend another Sabbath. Soon after breakfast a large 
boat, filled with men in blue jackets, scarlet caps, and 
various coloured under-clothes, bound ashore on liberty, left 
the Italian ship and passed under our stern, the men sing¬ 
ing beautiful Italian boat-songs all the way in fine full 
chorus. Supposing that the whole day would be too long 
a time to spend ashore, as there was no place to which we 
could take a ride, we remained quietly on board until after 
dinner. We were then pulled ashore in the stern of the 
boat, and with orders to be on the beach at sundown, we 
took our way for the town. 

There everything wore the appearance of a holiday. 
Under the piazza of a “pulperia” two men were seated, 
decked out with knots of ribands and bouquets, and playing 
the violin and the Spanish guitar. As it was now too near 
the middle of the day to see any dancing, and hearing that 
a bull was expected down from the country to be baited in 
the Presidio square in the course of an hour or two, we took 
a stroll among the houses. Inquiring for an American who, 
we had been told, had married in the place, and kept a shop, 
we were directed to a long, low building, at the end of 
which was a door with a sign over it in Spanish. Entering 
the shop, we found no one in it, and the whole had a 
deserted appearance. In a few minutes the man made his 
appearance, and apologized for having nothing to entertain 
us with, saying that he had had a fandango at his house the 

82 


A CALIFORNIA EASTER 


83 


night before, and the people had eaten and drunk up every¬ 
thing. 

“Oh, yes,” said I; “Easter holidays.” 

“No,” said he, with a singular expression on his face; 
“I had a little daughter die the other day, and that’s the 
custom of the country.” 

At this I felt a little strangely, not knowing what to say, 
or whether to offer consolation or no, and was beginning 
to retire when he opened a side-door and told us to walk in. 
Here I was no less astonished; for I found a large room 
filled with young girls from three or four years of age up 
to fifteen and sixteen, dressed all in white, with wreaths of 
flowers on their heads and bouquets in their hands. Fol¬ 
lowing our conductor among all these girls, who were 
playing about in high spirits, we came to a table at the end 
of the room, covered with a white cloth, on which lay a 
coffin about three feet long with the body of his child. 
Through an open door we saw in another room a few 
elderly people in common dresses; while the benches and 
tables thrown up in a corner and the stained walls gave 
evident signs of the last night’s “high go.” 

To pass away the time we hired horses and rode down to 
the beach. There we found three or four Italian sailors 
mounted and riding up and down on the hard sand at a 
furious rate. We joined them, and found it fine sport. 
From the beach we returned to the town, and finding that 
the funeral procession had moved, rode on and overtook 
it about half way to the mission. Here was as peculiar a 
sight as we had seen before in the house—the one looking 
as little like a funeral procession as the other did like a 
house of mourning. The coffin was borne by eight girls, 
who were continually relieved by others, running forward 
from the procession and taking their places. Behind it came 
a straggling company of girls, dressed as before, in white 
and flowers, and including, I should suppose by their num¬ 
bers, nearly all the girls between five and fifteen in the place. 
They played along on the way, frequently stopping and 


84 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


running all together to talk to some one, or to pick up a 
flower, and then running on again to overtake the coffin. 
There were a few elderly women in common colours; and a 
herd of young men and boys, some on foot and others 
mounted, followed them, or walked or rode by their side, 
frequently interrupting them by jokes and questions. But 
the most singular thing of all was that two men walked, 
one on each side of the coffin, carrying muskets in their 
hands, which they continually loaded and fired into the air. 

As we drew near the mission we saw the great gate 
thrown open and the padre standing on the steps with a 
crucifix in his hand. Just at this moment the bells set up 
their harsh, discordant clang, and the procession moved 
into the court. I was anxious to follow and see the cere¬ 
mony, but the horse of one of my companions had become 
frightened and was tearing off towards the town, and hav¬ 
ing thrown his rider and got one of his hoofs caught in the 
saddle, which had slipped, was fast dragging and ripping it 
to pieces. Knowing that my shipmate could not speak a 
word of Spanish, and fearing that he would get into diffi¬ 
culty, I was obliged to leave the ceremony and ride after 
him. 

Having returned to the town, we saw a great crowd col¬ 
lected in the square before the principal pulperia, and found 
that all these people—men, women, and children—had been 
drawn together by a couple of bantam cocks. 

We heard some talk about “ cabellas” and “carrera ” and 
seeing the people all streaming off in one direction, we fol¬ 
lowed, and came upon a level piece of ground just out of 
the town which was used as a race-course. Here the crowd 
soon became thick again; the ground was marked off, the 
judges stationed, and horses led up to one end. Two fine- 
looking old gentlemen—Don Carlos and Don Domingo, 
so called—held the stakes, and all was now ready. 

We waited some time, during which we could just see 
the horses twisting round and turning, until at length there 
was a shout along the lines, and on they came, heads 


A CALIFORNIA EASTER 


85 


stretched out and eyes starting, working all over, both man 
and beast. The steeds came by us like a couple of chain- 
shot—neck and neck; and now we could see nothing but 
their backs, and their hind hoofs flying in the air. As fast 
as the horses passed the crowd broke up behind them and ran 
to the goal. When we got there we found the horses 
returning on a slow walk, having run far beyond the mark, 
and heard that the long, bony one had come in head and 
shoulders before the other. The horses were noble-looking 
beasts—not so sleek and combed as our Boston stable-horses, 
but with fine limbs and spirited eyes. 

Returning to the large pulperia, we found the violin and 
guitar screaming and twanging away under the piazza, 
where they had been all day. As it was now sundown there 
began to be some dancing. The Italian sailors danced, and 
one of our crew exhibited himself in a sort of West Indian 
shuffle, much to the amusement of the bystanders, who cried 
out “Bravo!” but the dancing did not become general, as 
the women and the “genta de razon” had not yet made their 
appearance. We wished very much to stay and see the style 
of dancing, but, although we had had our own way during 
the day, yet we were after all but ’foremast Jacks, and 
having been ordered to be on the beach by sundown, did not 
venture to be more than an hour behind the time; so we 
took our way down. 

On Monday morning, as an off-set to our day’s sport, 
we were all set to work “tarring down” the rigging. After 
breakfast we had the satisfaction of seeing the Italian ship’s 
boat go ashore filled with men gaily dressed, as on the day 
before, and singing their barcarollas. The Easter holidays 
are kept up on shore during three days, and being a 
Catholic vessel, the crew had the advantage of them. For 
two successive days, while perched up in the rigging cov¬ 
ered with tar and engaged in our disagreeable work, we 
saw these fellows going ashore in the morning and coming 
off again at night in high spirits. 

About noon a man aloft called out “Sail ho!” and looking 


86 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


round we saw the head sails of a vessel coming round the 
point. As she drew round she showed the broad side of a 
full-rigged brig, with the Yankee ensign at her peak. We 
ran up our stars and stripes, and, knowing that there was 
no American brig on the coast but ourselves, expected to 
have news from home. She rounded-to and let her anchor 
go; but the dark faces on her yards, when they furled the 
sails, and the Babel on deck, soon made known that she was 
from the Islands. Immediately afterwards a boat’s crew 
came aboard, bringing her skipper, and from them we 
learned that she was from Oahu, and was engaged in the 
same trade with the Ayacucho, Loriotte, &c., between the 
coast, the Sandwich Islands, and the leeward coast of Peru 
and Chili. Her captain and officers were Americans, and 
also a part of her crew; the rest were Islanders. She was 
called the Catalina, and, like all the other vessels in that 
trade, except the Ayacucho, her papers and colours were 
from Uncle Sam. 

After lying here about a fortnight, and collecting all the 
hides the place afforded, we set sail again for San Pedro. 

We lay about a week in San Pedro, and got under way 
for San Diego, intending to stop at San Juan, as the south¬ 
easter season was nearly over, and there was little or no 
danger. 

This being the spring season, San Pedro, as well as all the 
other open ports upon the coast, was filled with wffiales that 
had come in to make their annual visit upon soundings. 
For the first few days that we were here and at Santa 
Barbara we watched them with great interest, calling out 
“There she blows!” every time we saw the spout of one 
breaking the surface of the water; but they soon became so 
common that we took little notice of them. We once very 
nearly ran one down in the gig, and should probably have 
been knocked to pieces or blown sky-high. We had been 
on board the little Spanish brig, and were returning, stretch¬ 
ing out well at our oars, the little boat going like a swallow; 
our backs were forward, and the captain, who was steering, 


A CALIFORNIA EASTER 


87 


was not looking out, when all at once we heard the spout 
of a whale directly ahead. “Back water! back water, for 
your lives!” shouted the captain; and we backed our blades 
in the water, and brought the boat to in a smother of foam. 
Turning our heads, we saw a great, rough, hump-backed 
whale slowly crossing our forefoot* within three or four 
yards of the boat’s stem. Had we not backed water just as 
we did we should inevitably have gone smash upon him. 
He took no notice of us, but passed slowly on, and dived a 
few yards beyond us, throwing his tail high in the air. This 
kind differs much from the sperm in color and skin, and is 
said to be fiercer. We saw a few sperm whales; but most 
of the whales that come upon the coast are fin-backs, hump¬ 
backs, and right-whales, which are more difficult to take, 
and are said not to give oil enough to pay for the trouble. 

San Juan is the only romantic spot we saw in California. 
The country here for several miles is high table-land, run¬ 
ning boldly to the shore, and breaking off in a steep hill, 
at the foot of which the waters of the Pacific are constantly 
dashing. For several miles the water washes the very base 
of the hill, or breaks upon ledges and fragments of rocks 
which run out into the sea. Just where we landed was a 
small cove, or “bight,” which gave us, at high tide, a few 
square feet of sand-beach between the sea and the bottom of 
the hill. This was the only landing-place. Directly before 
us rose the perpendicular height of four or five hundred feet. 
How we were to get hides down, or goods up, upon the 
table-land on which the mission was situated was more than 
we could tell. The agent had taken a long circuit, and yet 
had frequently to jump over breaks and climb up steep places 
in the ascent. No animal but a man or a monkey could 
get up it. However, that was not our look-out; and know¬ 
ing that the agent would be gone an hour or more, we 
strolled about, picking up shells, and following the sea where 
it tumbled in, roaring and spouting, among the crevices of 
the great rocks. 

I separated myself from the rest, and sat down on a rock, 


88 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


just where the sea ran in and formed a fine spouting-horn. 
Compared with the plain, dull sand-beach of the rest of the 
coast this grandeur was as refreshing as a great rock in a 
Weary land. It was almost the first time that I had been 
positively alone—free from the sense that human beings 
were at my elbow, if not talking with me—since I had left 
home. My better nature returned strong upon me. Every¬ 
thing was in accordance with my state of feeling, and I ex¬ 
perienced a glow of pleasure at finding that what of poetry 
and romance I ever had in me had not been entirely dead¬ 
ened by the laborious life I had been lately leading. Nearly 
an hour did I sit, almost lost in the luxury of this entire 
new scene of the play in which I had been so long acting, 
when I was aroused by the distant shouts of my companions, 
and saw that they were collecting together, as the agent 
had made his appearance on his way back to our boat. 

We pulled aboard, and found the long-boat hoisted out, 
and nearly laden with goods; and after dinner we all w*ent 
on shore in the quarter-boat, with the long-boat in tow. 
As we drew in, we found an ox-cart and a couple of men 
standing directly on the brow of the hill; and having landed, 
the captain took his way round the hill, ordering me and 
one other to follow him. We followed, picking our way 
out, and jumping and scrambling up, walking over briers 
and prickly pears, until we came to the top. Here the 
country stretched out for miles, as far as the eye could 
reach, on a level table surface; and the only habitation in 
sight was the small white mission of San Juan Campestrano, 
with a few Indian huts about it, standing in a small hollow, 
about a mile from where we were. Reaching the brow of 
the hill where the cart stood, we found several piles of 
hides, and the Indians sitting round them. One or two 
other carts were coming slowly on from the mission, and the 
captain told us to begin and throw the hides down. This, 
then, was the way they were to be got down: thrown down, 
one at a time, a distance of four hundred feet! 

Down this height we pitched the hides, throwing them as 


A CALIFORNIA EASTER 


89 


far out into the air as we could; and as they were all large, 
stiff, and doubled, like the cover of a book, the wind took 
them, and they swayed and eddied about, plunging and ris¬ 
ing in the air like a kite when it has broken its string. As 
it was now low tide there was no danger of their falling 
into the water, and as fast as they came to ground the men 
below picked them up and, taking them on their heads, 
walked off with them to the boat. It was really a pic¬ 
turesque sight. 

Having thrown them all down, we took our way back 
again, and found the boat loaded and ready to start. We 
pulled off, took the hides all aboard, hoisted in the boats, 
hove up our anchor, made sail, and before sundown were on 
our w T ay to San Diego. 

Friday , May 8, 1835 .—Arrived at San Diego. Here we 
found the little harbor deserted. The Lagoda, Ayacucho, 
Loriotte, and all, had left the coast, and we were nearly 
alone. All the hide-houses on the beach but ours were shut 
up; and the Sandwich Islanders, a dozen or twenty in num¬ 
ber, who had worked for the other vessels, and had been 
paid off when they sailed, were living on the beach, keeping 
up a grand carnival. A Russian discovery-ship, which had 
been in this port a few years before, had built a large oven 
for baking bread, and went away leaving it standing. This 
the Sandwich Islanders took possession of, and had kept ever 
since undisturbed. It was big enough to hold six or eight 
men, had a door at the side, and a vent-hole at top. They 
covered it with Oahu mats for a carpet, stopped up the 
vent-hole in bad weather, and made it their headquarters. 
It was now inhabited by as many as a dozen or twenty men, 
who lived there in complete idleness;—drinking, playing 
cards, and carousing in every way. They bought a bullock 
once a week, which kept them in meat, and one of them went 
up to town every day to get fruit, liquor, and provisions. 

Captain T- was anxious to get three or four of them 

to come on board of the Filgrim, as we were so much 
diminished in numbers, and went up to the oven and spent 



90 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


an hour or two trying to negotiate with them. One of them, 
a finely built, active, strong and intelligent fellow, who was 
a sort of king among them, acted as spokesman. He was 
called Mannini and was known all over California. 
Through him the captain offered them fifteen dollars a 
month and one month’s pay in advance; but so long as they 
had money they would not work for fifty dollars a month, 
and when their money was gone they would work for ten. 

We discharged our hides and tallow, and in about a week 
were ready to set sail again for the windward. We un¬ 
moored, and got everything ready, when the captain made 
another attempt upon the oven. This time he succeeded 
very well. He got Mr. Mannini in his interest, and, as the 
shot was getting low in the locker, prevailed upon him and 
three others to come on board with their chests and baggage, 
and sent a hasty summons to me and the boy to come ashore 
with our things, and join the gang at the hide-house. This 
was unexpected to me, but anything in the way of variety 
I liked; so we got ready, and were pulled ashore. I stood 
on the beach while the brig got under way, and watched 
her until she rounded the point, and then went up to the 
hide-house to take up my quarters for a few months. 


CHAPTER XVI 


HIDE-CURING 

Here was a change in my life as complete as it had been 
sudden. In the twinkling of an eye I was transformed 
into a “beach-comber” and hide-curer; yet the novelty and 
the comparative independence of the life were not un¬ 
pleasant. Our hide-house was a large building made of 
rough board, and intended to hold forty thousand hides. 
In one corner of it a small room was parted off, in which 
four berths were made, where we were to live, with mother 
earth for our floor. It contained a table, a small locker for 
pots, spoons, plates, etc., and a small hole cut to let in the 
light. Over our head was another small room, in which 
Mr. Russell lived, who had charge of the hide-house. 
There he lived in solitary grandeur; eating and sleeping 
alone, and communing with his own dignity. The boy 
was to act as cook; while myself, a giant of a Frenchman 
named Nicholas, and four Sandwich Islanders were to cure 
hides. Sam, the boy, the Frenchman, and myself lived 
together in the room, and the four Sandwich Islanders 
worked and ate with us, but generally slept at the oven. 
My new messmate, Nicholas, was the most immense man 
that I had ever seen in my life. He was considerably over 
six feet, and of a frame so large that he might have been 
shown for a curiosity. His strength was in proportion to 
his size, and his ignorance to his strength—“strong as an ox, 
and ignorant as strong.” He neither knew how to read nor 
to write. He had been to sea from a boy, and had seen all 
kinds of service, and been in every kind of vessel: merchant¬ 
men, men-of-war, privateers, and slavers; and from what 
I could gather from the accounts of himself, and from what 

91 


92 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


he once told me in confidence after we had been better 
acquainted, he had even been in worse business than slave¬ 
trading. 

He was once tried for his life in Charleston, South Caro¬ 
lina, and though acquitted, yet he was so frightened that he 
never would show himself in the United States again. 

Though I knew what his life had been, yet I never had 
the slightest fear of him. We always got along very well 
together; and though so much stronger and larger than I, 
he showed a respect for my education, and from what he 
had heard of my situation before coming to sea. “I’ll be 
good friends with you,” he used to say, “for by-and-by 
you’ll come out here captain, and then you’ll haze me well!” 
By holding well together we kept the officer in good order, 
for he was evidently afraid of Nicholas, and never ordered 
us, except when employed upon the hides. 

A considerable trade has been carried on for several years 
between California and the Sandwich Islands; and most of 
the vessels are manned with Islanders, who, as they for the 
most part sign no articles, leave whenever they choose and 
let themselves out to cure hides at San Diego, and to supply 
the places of the men of the American vessels while on the 
coast. In this way, quite a colony of them had become 
settled at San Diego as their headquarters. Some of these 
had recently gone off in the Ayacucho, the Loriotte, and the 
Pilgrim, so that there were not more than twenty left. Of 
these, four were on pay at the Ayacucho’s house, four more 
working with us, and the rest were living at the oven. 

During the four months that I lived here, I got well 
acquainted with all of them, and took the greatest pains to 
become familiar with their language, habits, and characters. 
Their language I could only learn orally for they had not 
any books among them, though many of them had been 
taught to read and write by the missionaries at home. They 
spoke a little English, and, by a sort of compromise, a 
mixed language was used on the beach, which could be 
understood by all. The long name of Sandwich-Islanders is 


HIDE-CURING 


93 


dropped, and they are called by the whites, all over the 
Pacific Ocean, “Kanakas,” from a word in their own lan¬ 
guage,—signifying, I believe, man, human being,—which 
they apply to themselves, and to all South-Sea-Islanders, in 
distinction from whites, whom they call “Haole.” This 
name, “Kanaka,” they answer to, both collectively and 
individually. 

Their proper names in their own language being difficult 
to pronounce and remember, they are called by any names 
which the captains or crews may choose to give them. Some 
are called after the vessel they are in; others by our proper 
names, as Jack, Tom, Bill; and some have fancy names, as 
Ban-yan, Fore-top, Rope-yarn, Pelican, &c., &c. Of the 
four who worked at our house, one was named “Mr. Bing¬ 
ham,” after the missionary at Oahu; another, Hope, after a 
vessel that he had been in; a third, Tom Davis, the name 
of his first captain; and the fourth, Pelican, from his fancied 
resemblance to that bird. Then there was Lagoda-Jack, 
California-Bill, &c., &c. But by whatever names they 
might be called, they were the most interesting, intelligent, 
and kind-hearted people that I ever fell in with. I felt a 
positive attachment for almost all of them; and many of 
them I have, to this day, a feeling for, which would lead 
me to go a great way for the pleasure of seeing them, and 
which will always make me feel a strong interest in the 
mere name of a Sandwich-Islander. 

Old “Mr. Bingham” spoke very little English,—almost 
none, and could neither read nor write; but he was the best- 
hearted old fellow in the world. He must have been over 
fifty years of age. He had two of his front teeth knocked 
out, which was done by his parents as a sign of grief at the 
death of Kamehameha, the great king of the Sandwich 
Islands. We used to tell him that he ate Captain Cook, 
and lost his teeth in that way. That was the only thing 
that ever made him angry. He would always be quite ex¬ 
cited at that, and say: “Aole!" (No.) “Me no eatee Cap’nee 
Cook! Me pickaninny—small—so high—no more! My 


94 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


fader see Cap’nee Cook! Me—no!” None of them liked 
to have anything said about Captain Cook, for the sailors 
all believe that he was eaten, and that they cannot endure to 
be taunted with. “New Zealand Kanaka eatee white man; 
Sandwich Island Kanaka,—no. Sandwich Island Kanaka 
ua like pu na hoale ,—all ’e same a’ you!” 

My favourite among all of them was Hope. He was an 
intelligent, kind-hearted little fellow, and I never saw him 
angry, though I knew him for more than a year, and have 
seen him imposed upon by white people. He never forgot 
a benefit. I once took care of him when he was ill, getting 
medicines from the ship’s chests, when no officers would do 
anything for him, and he never forgot it. 

Every Kanaka has one particular friend, whom he con¬ 
siders himself bound to do everything for, and for whom he 
will often make the greatest sacrifices. This friend they 
call AIKANE; and for such did Hope adopt me. I do not 
believe I could have wanted anything which he had, that 
he would not have given me. In return for this, I was 
his friend among the Americans, and used to teach him 
letters and numbers; for he left home before he had 
learned how to read. He was very curious respecting Bos¬ 
ton (as they called the United States), asking many ques¬ 
tions about the houses, the people, &c., and always wished 
to have the pictures in books explained to him. 

A map of the world, which I once showed them, kept 
their attention for hours; those who knew how to read 
pointing out the places and referring to me for the dis¬ 
tances. I remember being much amused with a question 
which Hope asked me. Pointing to the large, irregular 
place which is always left blank round the poles, to denote 
that it is undiscovered, he looked up and asked, “ Pout” 
(Done? ended?) 

The system of naming the streets and numbering the 
houses they easily understood, and the utility of it. They 
had a great desire to see America, but were afraid of dou¬ 
bling Cape Horn, for they suffer much in cold weather, 


HIDE-CURING 


95 


and had heard dreadful accounts of the Cape from those 
of their number who had been round it. 

They smoke a great deal, though not much at a time, 
using pipes with large bowls, and very short stems, or no 
stems at all. These they light, and, putting them to their 
mouths, take a long draught, getting their mouths as full 
as they can hold of smoke, and their cheeks distended, and 
then let it slowly out through their mouths and nostrils. 
The pipe is then passed to others, who draw in the same 
manner,—one pipe-full serving for half a dozen. They 
never take short, continuous draughts, like Europeans, but 
one of these “Oahu puffs,” as the sailors call them, serves 
for an hour or two, until some one else lights his pipe, and 
it is passed round in the same manner. Each Kanaka on 
the beach had a pipe, flint, steel, tinder, a hand of tobacco, 
and a jack-knife, which he always carried about with him. 

That which strikes a stranger most peculiarly is their 
style of singing. They run on, in a low, guttural, monoto¬ 
nous sort of chant, their lips and tongues seeming hardly to 
move, and the sounds apparently modulated solely in the 
throat. There is very little tune to it, and the words, so 
far as I could learn, are extempore. They sing about per¬ 
sons and things which are around them, and adopt this 
method when they do not wish to be understood by any 
but themselves; and it is very effectual, for with the 
most careful attention I never could detect a word that I 
knew. I have often heard Mr. Mannini, who was the 
most noted improvisatore among them, sing for an hour 
together, when at work in the midst of Americans and 
Englishman; and, by the occasional shouts and laughter of 
the Kanakas, who were at a distance, it was evident that he 
was singing about the different men that he was at work 
with. They have great powers of ridicule, and are excel¬ 
lent mimics, many of them discovering and imitating the 
peculiarities of our own people before we had observed 
them ourselves. 

The morning after my landing I began the duties of 


96 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


hide-curing. The great weight of the wet hides, which we 
were obliged to roll about in wheelbarrows, the continual 
stooping upon those which were pegged out to be cleaned, 
and the smell of the vats, into which we were often obliged 
to get, knee-deep, to press down the hides—all made the 
work disagreeable and fatiguing. But we soon got hard¬ 
ened to it, and the comparative independence of our life 
reconciled us to it, for when we had finished our work we 
had only to wash and change our clothes, and our time was 
our own. There was, however, one exception to the time 
being our own, which was, that on two afternoons of every 
week we were obliged to go off and get wood for the cook 
to use in the galley. 

Wood is very scarce in the vicinity of San Diego, and 
two afternoons in the week, generally Monday and Thurs¬ 
day, as soon as we had finished our dinner, we started off 
for the bush, each of us furnished with a hatchet and a 
long piece of rope, and dragging the hand-cart behind us, 
and followed by the whole colony of dogs, who were always 
ready for the bush, and were half mad whenever they saw 
our preparations. We went with the hand-cart as far as 
we could conveniently drag it, and, leaving it in an open, 
conspicuous place, separated ourselves, each taking his own 
course, and looking about for some good place to begin 
upon. Having lighted upon a good thicket, the next thing 
was to clear away the under-brush, and have fair play at 
the trees. These trees are seldom more than five or six 
feet high; so that, with lopping off the branches and clear¬ 
ing away the underwood, we had a good deal of cutting to 
do for a very little wood. Having cut enough for a “back¬ 
load,” the next thing was to make it well fast with the 
rope, and heaving the bundle upon our backs, and taking 
the hatchet in hand, to walk off, up hill and down dale, to 
the hand-cart. Two good back-loads apiece filled the hand¬ 
cart, and that was each one’s proportion. When each had 
brought down his second load, we filled the hand-cart, and 
took our way again slowly back to the beach. 


HIDE-CURING 


97 


These wooding excursions had always a mixture of some¬ 
thing rather pleasant in them. Roaming about the woods, 
with hatchet in hand, like a backwoodsman, followed by a 
troop of dogs; starting up birds, snakes, hares, and foxes, 
and examining the various kinds of trees, flowers, and birds’ 
nests, was at least a change from the monotonous drag and 
pull on shipboard. Frequently, too, we had some amuse¬ 
ment and adventure. 

The coyotes, of which I have before spoken, fierce little 
animals, with bushy tails and large heads, and a quick, 
sharp bark, abound here, as in all other parts of California. 
These the dogs were very watchful for, and whenever they 
saw them, started off in full run after them. We had many 
fine chases, yet, although our dogs ran finely, the rascals 
generally escaped. They are a match for the dogs one to 
one; but as the dogs generally went in squads there was 
seldom a fair fight. A smaller dog belonging to us once 
attacked a coyote, single, and got a good deal worsted, and 
might, perhaps, have been killed had we not come to his 
assistance. We had, however, one dog which gave them a 
good deal of trouble and many hard runs. He was a fine, 
tall fellow, and united strength and agility better than any 
dog that I have ever seen. He always led the dogs by 
several yards in the chase, and had killed two coyotes at 
different times in single combats. We often had fine sport 
with these fellows. A quick, sharp bark from a coyote, and 
in an instant every dog was at the height of his speed. Pur¬ 
suit by us was in vain, and in about half an hour a few of 
them would come panting and straggling back. 

Beside the coyotes, the dogs sometimes made prizes of 
rabbits and hares, which are very plentiful here, and great 
numbers of which we Dften shot for our dinners. There 
was another animal that I was not much disposed to find 
amusement from, and that was the rattlesnake. These are 
very abundant. 

The first that I ever saw I remember perfectly well. I 
had left my companions, and was beginning to clear away 


98 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


a fine clump of trees, when, just in the midst of the thicket, 
not more than eight yards from me, one of these fellows 
set up his hiss. Once or twice the noise stopped for a short 
time, which gave me a little uneasiness, and retreating a 
few steps, I threw something into the bush, at which he 
would set his rattle going; and finding that he had not 
moved from his first place, I was easy again. In this way I 
continued at my work till I had cut a full load, never suf¬ 
fering him to be quiet for a moment. Having cut my load, 
I strapped it together and got everything ready for starting. 
I felt that I could now call the others without the imputa¬ 
tion of being afraid, and went in search of them. In a 
few minutes we were all collected and began an attack upon 
the bush. The big Frenchman I found as little inclined to 
approach the snake as I had been. 

The dogs, too, seemed afraid of the rattle, and kept up 
a barking at a safe distance; but the Kanakas showed no 
fear, and getting long sticks, went into the bush, and keeping 
a bright look-out, stood within a few feet of him. One or 
two blows struck near him, and a few stones thrown started 
him, and we lost his track, and had the pleasant conscious¬ 
ness that he might be directly under our feet. By throwing 
stones and chips in different directions we made him spring 
his rattle again, and began another attack. This time we 
drove him into the clear ground, and saw him gliding off, 
with head and tail erect, when a stone, well aimed, knocked 
him over the bank, down a declivity of fifteen or twenty 
feet, and stretched him at his length. Having made sure of 
him by a few more stones we went down, and one of the 
Kanakas cut off his rattle. These rattles vary in number, 
it is said, according to the age of the snake; though the 
Indians think they indicate the number of creatures they 
have killed. 

Hares and rabbits, as I said before, were abundant, and 
during the winter months the waters were covered with wild 
ducks and geese. Crows, too, were very numerous, and 
frequently alighted in great numbers upon our hides, pick- 


HIDE-CURING 


99 


ing at the pieces of dried meat and fat. Bears and wolves 
are numerous in the upper parts and in the interior, but 
there were none in our immediate neighbourhood. The only 
other animals were horses. Over a dozen of these were 
owned by different people on the beach, and were allowed to 
run loose among the hills, with a long lasso attached to them, 
and pick up feed wherever they could find it. These horses 
were bought at from two to six dollars apiece, and were 
held very much as common property. We generally kept 
one fast to one of the houses every day, so that we could 
mount him and catch any of the others. Some of them were 
really fine animals, and gave us many good runs up to the 
Presidio and over the country. 


CHAPTER XVII 


GOOD TIMES ON SHORE 

After we had been a few weeks on shore, and had begun 
to feel broken into the regularity of our life, its monotony 
was interrupted by the arrival of two vessels from the wind¬ 
ward, the Italian ship Rosa , and the brig Catalina , which 
we saw at Santa Barbara, just arrived from Valparaiso. 
They came to anchor, moored ship, and commenced dis¬ 
charging hides and tallow. 

The greater part of the crews of the vessels came ashore 
every evening, and we passed the time in going about from 
one house to another, and listening to all manner of lan¬ 
guages. The Spanish was the common ground upon which 
we all met, for every one knew more or less of that. We had 
now, out of forty or fifty representatives from almost every 
nation under the sun, two Englishmen, three Yankees, two 
Scotchmen, two Welshmen, one Irishman, three Frenchmen, 
one Dutchman, one Austrian, two or three Spaniards, half 
a dozen Spanish-Americans and half-breeds, two native In¬ 
dians from Chili and the Island of Chiloe, one negro, one 
mulatto, about twenty Italians from all parts of Italy, as 
many more Sandwich Islanders, one Otaheitan, and one 
Kanaka from the Marquesas Islands. 

The night before the vessels were ready to sail, all the 
Europeans united and had an entertainment at the Rosa's 
hide-house, and we had songs of every nation and tongue. 
A German gave us “Och! mein lieber Augustin!”; the three 
Frenchmen roared through the Marseillaise Hymn; and 
English and Scotchmen gave us “Rule Britannia” and 
“Wha’ll be King but Charlie?”; the Italians and Spaniards 
screamed through some national affairs, for which I was 

100 


GOOD TIMES ON SHORE 


101 


none the wiser; and we three Yankees made an attempt at 
the “Star Spangled Banner.” 

In about six weeks from the time when the Pilgrim sailed, 
we had got all the hides which she left us cured and stowed 
away; and having cleared up the ground, and emptied the 
vats, and set everything in order, had nothing more to do 
until she should come down again but to supply ourselves 
with wood. Instead of going twice a week for this pur¬ 
pose we determined to give one whole week to getting wood, 
and then we should have enough to last us half through 
the summer. Accordingly, we started off every morning and 
cut wood until the sun was over the point—which was our 
only mark of time, as there was not a watch on the beach— 
and then came back to dinner, and after dinner started off 
again with our hand-cart and ropes, and carted it down 
until sunset. This we kept up for a week, until we had 
collected enough to last us for six or eight weeks, when we 
“knocked off” altogether, much to my joy; for though I 
liked straying in the woods and cutting very well, yet the 
backing the wood for so great a distance over an uneven 
country, was, without exception, the hardest work I had 
ever done. 

We were now through all our work, and had nothing 
more to do until the Pilgrim should come down again. We 
had nearly got through our provisions too, as well as our 
work; for our officer had been very wasteful of them, and 
the tea, Hour, sugar, and molasses were all gone. Finding 
wheat-coffee and dry bread rather poor living, we clubbed 
together, and I went up to the town on horseback, with a 
great salt-bag behind the saddle, and a few reals in my 
pocket, and brought back the bag full of onions, pears, beans, 
water-melons, and other fruits. With these we lived like 
fighting-cocks for a week or two, and had, besides, what the 
sailors call a “blow-out on sleep,” not turning out in the 
morning until breakfast was ready. I employed several days 
in overhauling my chest and mending up all my old clothes, 
until I had got everything in order—patch upon patch, 


102 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


like a sand-barge’s mainsail. That done, and there being 
no signs of the Pilgrim, I made a descent upon Schmidt, 
and borrowed and read all the books there were upon the 
beach. I found, at the bottom of Schmidt’s chest, “ Mande- 
ville, a romance, by Godwin, in five volumes.” I bore it 
off, and for two days I was up early and late, reading with 
all my might, and actually drinking in delight. It is no 
extravagance to say that it was like a spring in a desert land. 

Wednesday, July 18 .—Brought us the brig Pilgrim from 
the windward. As she came in we found that she was a 
good deal altered in her countenance. Then there was a 
new voice giving orders, and a new face on the quarter¬ 
deck—a short, dark-complexioned man, in a green jacket 
and high leather cap. These changes, of course, set the 
whole beach on the qui vive, and we were all waiting for 
the boat to come ashore that we might have things explained. 
At length, after the sails were furled and the anchor car¬ 
ried out, the boat pulled ashore, and the new^s soon flew 
that the expected ship arrived at Santa Barbara, and that 

Captain T-had taken command of her, and her captain, 

Faucon, had taken the Pilgrim , and was the green-jacketed 
man on the quarter-deck. The boat put directly off again, 
without giving us time to ask any more questions, and we 
were obliged to wait till night, when we took a little skiff 
that lay on the beach and paddled off. 

When I stepped aboard, the second mate called me aft, 
and gave me a large bundle, directed to me, and marked 
“Ship Alert.” Diving down into the forecastle, I found the 
same old crew, and was really glad to see them again. 
Numerous inquiries passed as to the new ship, the latest 
news from Boston, &c., &c. The Alert was agreed on all 
hands to be a fine ship, and a large one: “Larger than the 
Rosa ”—“Big enough to carry off all the hides in Cali¬ 
fornia.” Captain T- took command of her, and she 

went directly up to Monterey; from thence she was to go 
to San Francisco, and probably would not be in San Diego 
under two or three months. Some of the Pilgrim's crew 




GOOD TIMES ON SHORE 


103 


spent an hour or two in her forecastle the evening before 
she sailed. They said her decks were as white as snow— 
holystoned every morning, like a man-of-war’s; everything 
on board “ship-shape and Bristol fashion”; a fine crew, 
three mates, a sailmaker and carpenter, and all complete. 
“They’ve got a man for mate of that ship, and not a sheep 
about decks!”—“A mate that knows his duty, and makes 
everybody do theirs, and won’t be imposed upon either by 
captain or crew.” 

Having got all the news we could, we pulled ashore; 
and as soon as we reached the house, I, as might be sup¬ 
posed, proceeded directly to open my bundle, and found a 
reasonable supply of duck, flannel shirts, shoes, &c., and, 
what was still more valuable, a packet of eleven letters. 
These I sat up nearly all the night to read. Then came 
half-a-dozen newspapers, the last of which gave notice of 
Thanksgiving, and of the clearance of “ship Alert , Edward 
H. Faucon, master, for Callao and California, by Bryant, 
Sturgis, and Co.” No one has ever been on distant voyages, 
and after a long absence received a newspaper from home, 
who cannot understand the delight that they give one. 

The Pilgrim discharged her hides, which set us at work 
again, and in a few days we were in the old routine of dry 
hides, wet hides, cleaning, beating, &c. 

Saturday , July 11 .—The Pilgrim set sail for the wind¬ 
ward, and left us to go in our old way. Having laid in 
such a supply of wood, and the days being now long, and 
invariably pleasant, we had a good deal of time to our¬ 
selves. Reading, mending, sleeping, with occasional ex¬ 
cursions into the bush, with the dogs, in search of coyotes, 
hares and rabbits, or to encounter a rattlesnake, and now 
and then a visit to the Presidio, filled up our spare time 
after hide-curing was over for the day. 

Another amusement which we sometimes indulged in was 
“burning the water” for craw-fish. For this purpose we 
procured a pair of grains , with a long staff like a harpoon, 
and making torches with tarred rope twisted round a long 


104 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


pine stick, took the only boat on the beach, a small skiff, 
and with a torch-bearer in the bow, a steersman in the 
stern, and one man on each side with the grains, went off, 
on dark nights, to burn the water. This is fine sport. Keep¬ 
ing within a few rods of the shore, where the water is not 
more than three or four feet deep, with a clear sandy bot¬ 
tom, the torches light everything up so that one could 
almost have seen a pin among the grains of sand. The 
craw-fish are an easy prey, and we used soon to get a load 
of them. The Pilgrim brought us down a supply of fish¬ 
hooks, which we had never had before on the beach, and 
for several days we went down to the Point, and caught a 
quantity of cod and mackerel. 

On one of these expeditions, we saw a battle between two 
Sandwich Islanders and a shark. “Johnny” had been play¬ 
ing about our boat for some time, driving away the fish, and 
showing his teeth at our bait, when we missed him, and in 
a few moments heard a great shouting between two Kanakas 
who were fishing on the rock opposite to us, and saw them 
pulling away on a stout line, and “Johnny Shark” flound¬ 
ering at the other end. The line soon broke; but the 
Kanakas would not let him off so easily, and sprang directly 
into the water after him. Now came the tug of war. 
Before he could get into deep water one of them seized him 
by the tail, and ran up with him upon the beach; but 
Johnny twisted round, turning his head under his body, 
and showing his teeth in the vicinity of the Kanaka’s hand, 
made him let go and spring out of the way. The shark 
now turned tail and made the best of his way, by flapping 
and floundering, towards deep water; but here again, be¬ 
fore he was fairly off, the other Kanaka seized him by the 
tail, and made a spring towards the beach, his companion 
at the same time paying away upon him with stones and 
a large stick. As soon, however, as the shark could turn 
he was obliged to let go his hold; but the instant he made 
toward deep water they were both behind him, watching 


GOOD TIMES ON SHORE 


105 


their chance to seize him. In this way the battle went on 
for some time, the shark, in a rage, splashing and twisting 
about, and the Kanakas, in high excitement, yelling at the 
top of their voices; but the shark at last got off, carrying 
away a hook and line, and not a few severe bruises. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE "ALERT" 

Saturday, July 18 .—This day sailed the Mexican her¬ 
maphrodite Fazio for San Bias and Mazatlan. The owner 
of her had had a good deal of difficulty with the govern¬ 
ment about the duties, &c., and her sailing had been delayed 
for several weeks; but everything having been arranged she 
got under way with a light breeze, and was floating out of 
the harbour when two horsemen came dashing down to the 
beach at full speed, and tried to find a boat to put after 
her; but there being none on the beach, they offered a hand¬ 
ful of silver to any Kanaka who would swim off and take 
a letter on board. 

One of the Kanakas, a fine, active, well-made young 
fellow, instantly threw off everything but his duck trousers, 
and putting the letter into his hat, swam off after the vessel. 
Fortunately, the wind was very light, and the vessel was 
going slowly, so that although she was nearly a mile off 
when he started, he gained on her rapidly. He went through 
the water, leaving a wake like a small steamboat. They 
saw him coming from the deck, but did not heave-to, sus¬ 
pecting the nature of his errand; yet, the wind continuing 
light, he swam alongside and got on board, and delivered 
his letter. The captain read the letter, told the Kanaka there 
was no answer, and giving him a glass of brandy, left him to 
jump overboard and find the best of his way to the shore. 
The Kanaka swam in for the nearest point of land, and in 
about an hour made his appearance at the hide-house. He 
did not seem at all fatigued, had made three or four dollars, 
got a glass of brandy, and was in fine spirits. 

It was now nearly three months since the Alert arrived 
106 


THE “ALERT” 


107 


at Santa Barbara, and we began to expect her daily. About 
half-a-mile behind the hide-house was a high hill, and every 
afternoon, as soon as we had done our work, some one of 
us walked up to see if there were any sail in sight. Each 
day after the latter part of July we went up the hill and 
came back disappointed. I was anxious for her arrival: for 
I had been told by letter that the owners in Boston, at the 

request of my friends, had written to Captain T-to take 

me on board the Alertj in case she returned to the United 
States before the Pilgrim; and I, of course, wished to know 
whether the order had been received, and what was the 
destination of the ship. One year more or less might be of 
small consequence to others, but it was everything to me. It 
was now just a year since we sailed from Boston, and at 
the shortest, no vessel could expect to get away under eight 
or nine months, which would make our absence two years 
in all. This would be pretty long, but would not be fatal. 
It would not necessarily be decisive of my future life. 

But one year more would settle the matter. I should 
be a sailor for life; and although I had made up my mind 
to it before I had my letters from home, and was, as I 
thought, quite satisfied; yet as soon as an opportunity was 
held out to me of returning, and the prospect of another 
kind of life was opened to me, my anxiety to return, and, at 
least, to have the chance of deciding upon my course for 
myself was beyond measure. Besides that, I wished to be 
“equal to either fortune,” and to qualify myself for an offi¬ 
cer’s berth; and a hide-house was no place to learn seaman¬ 
ship in. I had become experienced in hide-curing, and 
everything went on smoothly, and I had many opportunities 
of becoming acquainted with the people, and much leisure 
for reading and studying navigation; yet practical seaman¬ 
ship could only be got on board ship; therefore I determined 
to ask to be taken on board the ship when she arrived. By 
the first of August we finished curing all our hides, stored 
them away, cleaned out our vats, and got in readiness for 
the arrival of the ship, and had another leisure interval of 



108 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


three or four weeks, which I spent as usual in reading, writ¬ 
ing, studying, making and mending my clothes, and getting 
my wardrobe in complete readiness, in case I should go on 
board the ship. 

Tuesday, August 25 .—This morning the officer in charge 
of our house went off beyond the point fishing in a small 
canoe with two Kanakas; and we were sitting quietly in 
our room at the hide-house when, just before noon, we 
heard a complete yell of “Sail ho!” breaking out from all 
parts of the beach at once. In an instant every one was 
out of his house; and there was a fine, tall ship, with royals 
and skysails set, bending over before the strong afternoon 
breeze, and coming rapidly round the point. The Yankee 
ensign was flying from her mizzen-peak; and having the 
tide in her favour, she came up like a racehorse. It was 
nearly six months since a new vessel had entered San 
Diego, and of course every one was on the qui vive . 

The captain’s gig was lowered away from the quarter, 
and a boat’s crew of fine lads, between the ages of fourteen 
and eighteen, pulled the captain ashore. We immediately 
attacked the boat’s crew, and got very thick with them in 
a few minutes. We had much to ask about Boston, their 
passage out, &c., and they were very curious to know about 
the life we were leading upon the beach. One of them 
offered to exchange with me, which was just what I wanted; 
and we had only to get the permission of the captain. 

After dinner the crew began discharging their hides, and 
as we had nothing to do at the hide-houses, we were ordered 
aboard to help them. She looked as well on board as she 
did from without. Her decks were wide and roomy, flush 
fore and aft, and as white as snow. There was no rust, 
no dirt, no rigging hanging slack, no fag-ends of ropes and 
“Irish pendants” aloft, and the yards were squared “to a T” 
by lifts and braces. The mate was a fine, hearty, noisy 
fellow, with a voice like a lion, and always wide awake. 
There was also a second and third mate, a carpenter, sail- 
maker, steward, mate, cook, &c., and twelve, including boys, 



There was a fine, tall ship. . . coming rapidly round the point 





































110 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


before the mast. She had on board seven thousand hides, 
which she had collected at the windward, and also horns 
and tallow. All these we began discharging from both 
gangways at once into the two boats, the second mate having 
charge of the launch, and the third mate of the pinnace. 
For several days we were employed in this way until all 
the hides were taken out, when the crew began taking in 
ballast, and we returned to our old work, hide-curing. 

Sunday , August 30 .—This was the first Sunday that the 
crew had been in San Diego, and of course they were all 
for going up to see the town. The Indians came down 
early with horses to let for the day, and all the crew who 
could obtain liberty went off to the Presidio and Mission, 
and did not return until night. I had seen enough of San 
Diego, and went on board, and spent the day with some of 
the crew, whom I found quietly at work in the forecastle, 
mending and washing their clothes, and reading and writ¬ 
ing. The forecastle in which they lived was large, tolerably 
well lighted by bull’s-eyes, and being kept perfectly clean, 
had quite a comfortable appearance; at least it was far 
better than the little, black, dirty hole in which I had lived 
so many months on board the Pilgrim. In the after part 
of the ship was a handsome cabin, a dining-room, and a 
trade-room, fitted out with shelves, and furnished with all 
sorts of goods. Between these and the forecastle was the 
“between decks,” as high as the gun-deck of a frigate, being 
six feet and a half under the beams. These between decks 
were kept in the most perfect order, the carpenter’s bench 
and tools being in one part, the sailmaker’s in another, the 
boatswain’s locker, with the spare rigging, in a third. A 
part of the crew slept here in hammocks swung fore and aft 
from the beams, and triced up every morning. 

This ship lay about a week longer in port, when, having 
discharged her cargo and taken in ballast, she prepared to 
get under way. I now made my application to the captain 
to go on board. He said he had no objections, if I could 


THE “ALERT” 


111 


find one of my own age to exchange with me for the time. 
This I easily accomplished, for they were glad to change 
the scene by a few months on shore, and, moreover, escape 
the winter and the southeasters; and I went on board the 
next day, and found myself once more afloat. 


CHAPTER XIX 


A CHANGE OF SCENE 

Tuesday, September 8 .—This was my first day’s duty on 
board the ship, and though a sailor’s life is a sailor’s life 
wherever it may be, yet I found everything very different 
here from the customs of the brig Pilgrim. After all hands 
were called at daybreak the head-pump was then rigged, 
and the decks washed down by the second and third mates, 
the chief mate walking the quarter-deck and keeping a 
general supervision, but not deigning to touch a bucket or 
a brush. 

The rest of the cleaning was divided among the crew. 
When the decks were dry the lord paramount made his 
appearance on the quarter-deck and took a few turns, when 
eight bells were struck, and all hands went to breakfast. 
Half an hour was allowed for breakfast, when all hands 
were called again; the kids, pots, bread-bags, &c., stowed 
away; and, this morning, preparations were made for get¬ 
ting under way. This work was done in shorter time than 
was usual on board the brig; for though everything was 
more than twice as large and heavy, yet there was plenty 
of room to move about in, more discipline and system, more 
men, and more good-will. Every one seemed ambitious to 
do his best: officers and men knew their duty, and all went 
well. 

As soon as we were beyond the point, and all sail out, 
the order was given, “Go below, the watch!” and the crew 
said that ever since they had been on the coast they had had 
“watch and watch” while going from port to port; and, in 
fact, everything showed that, though strict discipline was 
kept, and the utmost required of every man in the way of 

112 


A CHANGE OF SCENE 


113 


his duty, yet on the whole there was very good usage on 
board. 

It being the turn of our watch to go below, the men 
went to work, mending their clothes and doing other little 
things for themselves. 

On deck the regular work of the ship went on. The 
sailmaker and carpenter worked between decks, and the 
crew had their work to do upon the rigging, drawing yarns, 
making spun-yarn, &c., as usual in merchantmen. The 
night watches were much more pleasant than on board the 
Pilgrim. The sailmaker was the head man of the watch, 
and was generally considered the most experienced seaman 
on board. He was a thoroughbred old man-of-war’s-man, 
had been to sea twenty-two years in all kinds of vessels— 
men-of-war, privateers, slavers, and merchantmen—every¬ 
thing except whalers, which a thorough sailor despises and 
will always steer clear of if he can. He had, of course, 
been in all parts of the world, and was remarkable for 
drawing a long-bow. His yarns frequently stretched 
through a watch, and kept all hands awake. They were 
always amusing from their improbability, and, indeed, he 
never expected to be believed, but spun them merely for 
amusement; and as he had some humour and a good supply 
of man-of-war slang and sailor’s salt phrases he always 
made fun. 

Next to him in age and experience, and, of course, in 
standing in the watch, was an Englishman named Harris. 
Then came two or three Americans, who had been the 
common run of European and South American voyages, 
and one who had been in a “spouter,” and, of course, had 
all the whaling stories to himself. Last of all was a broad- 
backed, thick-headed boy from Cape Cod, who had been 
in mackerel schooners, and was making his first voyage in a 
square-rigged vessel. The other watch was composed of 
about the same number. A tall, fine-looking Frenchman, 
with coal-black whiskers and curly hair, a first-rate seaman, 
named John, was the head man of the watch. Then came 


114 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


two Americans, a German, an English lad named Ben, and 
two Boston boys just from the public schools. The carpen¬ 
ter sometimes mustered in the starboard watch, and was 
an old sea-dog, a Swede by birth, and accounted the best 
helmsman in the ship. This was our ship’s company, beside 
cook and steward, who were blacks, three mates, and the 
captain. 

Friday , September 11 .—This morning, at four o’clock, 
went below, San Pedro point being about two leagues ahead, 
and the ship going on under studding-sails. In about an 
hour we were waked up by the hauling of the chain about 
decks, and in a few minutes “All hands ahoy!” was called; 
and we were all at work. “The Pilgrim is there at anchor,” 
said some one as we were running about decks; and taking 
a moment’s look over the rail I saw my old friend, deeply 
laden, lying at anchor inside of the kelp. 

From the moment of letting go the anchor, when the 
captain ceases his care of things, the chief mate is the great 
man. With a voice like a young lion he was hallooing and 
bawling in all directions, making everything fly, and at the 

same time doing everything well. Captain T- gave his 

directions to the mate in private, and, except in coming 
to anchor, getting under way, tacking, reefing topsails, and 
other “all-hands’-work,” seldom appeared in person. This 
is the proper state of things; and while this lasts, and there 
is a good understanding aft, everything will go on well. 

After breakfast the hatches were taken off, and all got 
ready to receive hides from the Pilgrim. All day boats 
were passing and repassing until we had taken her hides 
from her and left her in ballast trim. These hides made 
but little show in our hold, though they had loaded the 
Pilgrim down to the water’s edge. This changing of the 
hides settled the question of the destination of the two 
vessels, which had been one of some speculation to us. We 
were to remain in the leeward ports, while the Pilgrim was 
to sail the next morning for San Francisco. 

About seven o’clock the mate came down into the steer- 



A CHANGE OF SCENE 


115 


age, in fine trim for fun, roused the boys out of the berth, 
turned up the carpenter with his fiddle, sent the steward 
with lights to put in the between-decks, and set all hands 
to dancing. The between-decks were high enough to allow 
of jumping; and being clear and white from holy-stoning, 
made a fine dancing-hall. Some of the Pilgrim's crew were 
in the forecastle, and we all turned to and had a regular 
sailor’s shuffle till eight bells. The Cape Cod boy could 
dance the true fisherman’s jig barefooted, knocking with 
his heels, and slapping the decks with his bare feet, in time 
with the music. This was a favourite amusement of the 
mate, who always stood at the steerage door looking on. 

The next morning, according to the orders of the agent, 
the Pilgrim set sail for the windward, to be gone three or 
four months. She got under way with very little fuss, and 
came so near us as to throw a letter on board, Captain 
Faucon standing at the tiller himself, and steering her as 
he would a mackerel smack. 

After the Pilgrim left us we lay three weeks at San 
Pedro, from September 11 until October 2, engaged in the 
usual port duties of landing cargo, taking off hides, &c., &c. 
These duties were much easier, and went on much more 
agreeably than on board the Pilgrim. “The more the mer¬ 
rier” is the sailor’s maxim; and a boat’s crew of a dozen 
could take off all the hides brought down in a day without 
much trouble by a division of labor; and on shore, as well 
as on board, a good will, and no discontent or grumbling, 
make everything go well. The officer, too, who usually 
went with us, the third mate, was a fine young fellow, and 
made no unnecessary trouble; so that we generally had 
quite a sociable time, and were glad to be relieved from 
the restraint of the ship. 

A light whale-boat, handsomely painted, and fitted out 
with stern seats, yoke, tiller-ropes, &c., hung on the star¬ 
board quarter, and was used as the gig. The youngest lad 
in the ship, a Boston boy about thirteen years old, was 
coxswain of this boat, and had the entire charge of her, to 


116 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


keep her clean, and have her in readiness to go and come 
at any hour. Four light hands, of about the same size and 
age, of whom I was one, formed the crew. Each had his 
oar and seat numbered, and we were obliged to be in our 
places, have our oars scraped white, our thole pins in, and 
the fenders over the side. Our duty was to carry the 
captain and agent about and passengers off and on, which 
last was no trifling duty, as the people on shore have no 
boats, and every purchaser was to be taken off and on in 
our boat. Some days, when people were coming and going 
fast, we were in the boat, pulling off and on, all day long, 
making, as we lay nearly three miles from shore, from forty 
to fifty miles rowing in a day. Still, we thought it the best 
berth in the ship, for when the gig was employed we had 
nothing to do with the cargo. The rest of the crew never 
left the ship except for bringing heavy goods and taking off 
hides; and though we were always in the water, the surf 
hardly leaving us a dry thread from morning to night, yet 
we were young, and the climate was good, and we thought 
it much better than the quiet, hum-drum drag and pull on 
board ship. 

The brig Catalina came in from San Diego, and being 
bound up to windward, we both got under way at the same 
time, for a trial of speed up to Santa Barbara, a distance 
of about eighty miles. On the third morning we came into 
the great bay of Santa Barbara, two hours behind the brig. 

Sunday, October 4 .—This was the day of our arrival; 
and somehow or other, our captain always managed not 
only to sail, but to come into port, on a Sunday. The main 
reason for sailing on the Sabbath is not, as many people 
supposed, because Sunday is thought a lucky day, but because 
it is a leisure day. 

During the six days the crew are employed upon the 
cargo and other ship’s works, and, Sunday being their only 
day of rest, whatever additional work can be thrown into 
it is so much gain to the owners. Thus it was with us, 


A CHANGE OF SCENE 


117 


nearly all the time we were on the coast, and many of oui 
Sundays were lost entirely to us. 

Santa Barbara looked very much as it did when I left 
it five months before. We had a few visitors, and collected 
about a hundred hides; and every night, at sundown, the 
gig was sent ashore to wait for the captain, who spent his 
evenings in the town. We always took our monkey-jackets 
with us, and flint and steel, and made a fire on the beach 
with the driftwood and the bushes we pulled from the 
neighbouring thickets, and lay down by it on the sand. 
Sometimes earlier and sometimes later the captain came 
down; when, after a good drenching in the surf, we went 
aboard, changed our clothes, and turned in for the night— 
yet not for all the night, for there was an anchor watch 
to stand. 

This leads me to speak of my watchmate for nine months 
—and, taking him all in all, the most remarkable man I have 
ever seen—Tom Harris. An hour every night, while lying 
in port, Harris and myself had the deck to ourselves, and 
walking fore and aft, night after night, for months, I 
learned his whole character and history, and more about 
foreign nations, the habits of different people, and especially 
the secret of sailors’ lives and hardships, and also of prac¬ 
tical seamanship, than I could ever have learned. But the 
most remarkable thing about him was the power of his 
mind. His memory was perfect, seeming to form a regular 
chain, reaching from his earliest childhood up to the time 
I knew him, without one link wanting. His power of cal¬ 
culation, too, was remarkable. He carried in his head not 
only a log-book of the whole voyage, in which everything 
was complete and accurate, and from which no one ever 
thought of appealing, but also an accurate registry of all 
the cargo; knowing precisely where each thing was, and 
how many hides we took in at every port. One night he 
made a rough calculation of the number of hides that could 
be stowed in the lower hold, between the fore and main 


118 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


mast, and the average area and thickness of a hide; he came 
surprisingly near the number, as it afterwards turned out. 

The mate frequently came to him to know the capacity 
of different parts of the vessel, and he could tell the sail- 
maker very nearly the amount of canvas he would want for 
each sail in the ship; for he knew the hoist of every mast, 
and spread of every sail, on the head and foot, in feet 
and inches. Calculation of all kinds was his delight. I 
doubt if he ever forgot anything that he read. The only 
thing in the way of poetry that he ever read was Falconer’s 
“Shipwreck,” which he was delighted with, and whole pages 
of which he could repeat. He knew the name of every 
sailor that had ever been his shipmate, and also of every 
vessel, captain, and officer, and the principal dates of each 
voyage. 

His reasoning powers were remarkable. I have had 
harder work maintaining an argument with him in a watch, 
even when I knew myself to be right, and he was only 
doubting, than I ever had before—not from his obstinacy, 
but from his acuteness. With an iron memory, he seemed 
to have your whole past conversation at command, and if 
you said a thing now which ill agreed with something said 
months before, he was sure to have you on the hip. In 
fact, I always felt, when with him, that I was with no 
common man. I had a positive respect for his powers of 
mind, and felt often that if half the pains had been spent 
upon his education which are thrown away yearly in our 
colleges, he would have been a man of great weight in 
society. Like most self-taught men, he over-estimated the 
value of an education; and this I often told him, though I 
profited by it myself; for he always treated me with respect, 
and often unnecessarily gave way to me from an over¬ 
estimate of my knowledge. 

I recollect his posing me once on the subject of the Corn 
Laws. He asked me my opinion about them, which I gave 
him; and my reasons, my small stock of which I set forth 
to the best advantage. When I had got through he took 


A CHANGE OF SCENE 


119 


the liberty of differing from me, and, to my surprise, 
brought arguments and facts connected with the subject 
which were new to me, and to which I was entirely unable 
to reply. He knew every lunar star in both hemispheres, 
and was a perfect master of his quadrant and sextant. Such 
was the man who, at forty, was still a dog before the mast, 
at twelve dollars a month. The reason of this was to be 
found in his whole past life, as I had it, at different times, 
from himself. 

He was a native of Ilfracombe, in North Devon. His 
father was skipper of a small coaster from Bristol, and 
dying, left him, when quite young, to the care of his mother, 
by whose exertions he received a common-school education, 
passing his winters at school and his summers in the coasting 
trade, until his seventeenth year, when he left home to go 
upon foreign voyages. Of his mother he often spoke with 
the greatest respect, and said that she was a strong-minded 
woman, and had the best system of education he had ever 
known—a system which had made respectable men of his 
three brothers, and failed only in him from his own indomi¬ 
table obstinacy. It was no fault of hers that he was what 
I saw him; and so great was his sense of gratitude for her 
efforts, though unsuccessful, that he determined at the close 
of the voyage to embark for home with all the wages he 
could get, to spend with and for his mother, if perchance he 
should find her alive. 

After leaving home he had spent nearly twenty years 
sailing all sorts of voyages, generally out of the ports of 
New York and Boston/ Twenty years of vice! Every sin 
that a sailor knows he had gone to the bottom of. Several 
times, from his known capacity, he had been promoted to 
the office of chief mate, and as often his conduct when in 
port, especially his drunkenness, which neither fear nor am¬ 
bition could induce him to abandon, put him back into the 
forecastle. One night, when giving me an account of his 
life, and lamenting the years of manhood he had thrown 
away, he said that there, in the forecastle, at the foot of 


120 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


the steps—a chest of old clothes—was the result of twenty- 
two years’ hard labour and exposure—worked like a horse, 
and treated like a dog. 

As he grew older he began to feel the necessity of some 
provision for his later years, and came gradually to the 
conviction that rum had been his worst enemy. One night, 
in Havana, a young shipmate of his was brought aboard 
drunk, with a dangerous gash in his head, and his money 
and new clothes stripped from him. Harris had seen and 
been in hundreds of such scenes as these, but in his then 
state of mind it fixed his determination, and he resolved 
never to drink another drop of strong drink of any kind. 
He signed no pledge and made no vow, but relied on his 
own strength of purpose. The first thing with him was 
a reason, and then a resolution, and the thing was done. 
The date of his resolution he knew, of course, to the very 
hour. It was three years before I knew him, and during 
all that time nothing stronger than cider or coffee had passed 
his lips. The sailors never thought of enticing Tom to take 
a glass any more than they would of talking to the ship’s 
compass. 

He understood the management of a ship upon scientific 
principles, and could give the reason for hauling every rope; 
and a long experience, added to careful observation at the 
time, and a perfect memory, gave him a knowledge of the 
expedients and resorts in times of hazard which was remark¬ 
able, and for which I became much indebted to him, as he 
took the greatest pleasure in opening his stores of informa¬ 
tion to me in return for what I was enabled to do for him. 

In fact, taking together all that I learned from him of 
seamanship, of the history of sailors’ lives, of practical wis¬ 
dom, and of human nature under new circumstances, I 
would not part with the hours I spent in the watch with 
that man for any given hours of my life past in study and 
social intercourse. 


CHAPTER XX 


MORE LOADING OF HIDES 

Sunday, October 11. —Set sail this morning for the lee¬ 
ward, passed within sight of San Pedro, and to our great 
joy, did not come to anchor, but kept directly on to San 
Diego, where we arrived and moored ship on 

Thursday, October 15. —Found here the Italian ship La 
Rosa, from the windward, which reported the brig Pilgrim 
at San Francisco, all well. We discharged our hides, horns, 
and tallow, and were ready to sail again on the following 
Sunday. I went ashore to my old quarters, and found the 
gang at the hide-house going on in the even tenor of their 
way, and spent an hour or two after dark at the oven, 
taking a whiff with my old Kanaka friends, who really 
seemed glad to see me again, and saluted me as the Aikane 
of the Kanakas. 

Sunday was again, as usual, our sailing day; and we got 
under way with a stiff breeze, which reminded us that it 
was the latter part of the autumn, and time to expect south¬ 
easter once more. We beat up against a strong head wind, 
under reefed topsails, as far as San Juan, where we came 
to anchor nearly three miles from the shore, with slip-ropes 
on our cables, in the old southeaster style of last winter. 

Tuesday, October 20. —Having got everything ready, we 
set the agent ashore, who went up to the Mission to hasten 
down the hides for the next morning. This night we had 
the strictest orders to look out for southeasters; and the 
long, low clouds seemed rather threatening. But the night 
passed over without any trouble, and early the next morn¬ 
ing we hove out the long-boat and pinnace, lowered away 
the quarter-boats, and went ashore to bring off our hides. 

121 


122 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


Here we were again, in this romantic spot,—a perpen¬ 
dicular hill, twice the height of the ship’s mast-head, with 
a single circuitous path to the top, and long sand-beach at 
its base, with the swell of the whole Pacific breaking high 
upon it, and our hides ranged in piles on the overhanging 
summit. 

The captain sent me, who was the only one of the crew 
that had ever been there before, to the top, to count the 
hides and pitch them down. There I stood again, as six 
months before, throwing off the hides, and watching them 
pitching and scaling to the bottom, while the men, dwarfed 
by the distance, were walking to and fro on the beach, 
carrying the hides, as they picked them up, to the distant 
boats upon the tops of their heads. Two or three boatloads 
were sent off, until at last all were thrown down, and the 
boats nearly loaded again, when we were delayed by a 
dozen or twenty hides which had lodged in the recesses of 
the hill, and which we could not reach by any missiles, as 
the general line of the side was exactly perpendicular; and 
these places were caved in, and could not be seen or reached 
from the top. The captain sent on board for a pair of 
topgallant studding-sail halyards, and requested some one 
of the crew to go to the top and come down by the halyards. 
I offered my services, and went up, with one man to tend 
the rope, and prepared for the descent. 

We found a stake fastened strongly into the ground, and 
apparently capable of holding my weight, to which we made 
one end of the halyards well fast, ana taking the coil, threw 
it over the brink. 

I began my descent by taking hold of the rope in each 
hand, and slipping down, sometimes with hands and feet 
round the rope, and sometimes breasting off with one hand 
and foot against the precipice and holding on the rope with 
the other. In this way I descended until I came to a place 
shelved in, and in which the hides were lodged. Keeping 
hold of the rope with one hand, I scrambled in, and by 
the other hand and feet succeeded in dislodging all the 


MORE LOADING OF HIDES 123 


hides, and continued on my way. Just below this place 
the precipice projected again; and going over the projection 
I could see nothing below me but the sea, and the rocks 
upon which it broke, and a few gulls flying in midair. I 
got down in safety pretty well covered with dirt; and for 
my pains was told, “What a fool you were to risk your life 
for a half-dozen hides!” 

While we were carrying the hides to the boat I perceived, 
what I had been too busy to observe before, that heavy black 
clouds were rolling up from seaward, a strong swell heav¬ 
ing in, and every sign of a southeaster. The captain hurried 
everything. The hides were pitched into the boats; and 
with some difficulty we got the boats through the surf and 
began pulling aboard. Our gig’s crew towed the pinnace 
astern of the gig, and the launch was towed by six men 
in the jolly-boat. The ship was lying three miles off, pitch¬ 
ing at her anchor, and the further we pulled the heavier 
grew the swell. We at length got alongside, our boats 
half full of water; and now came the greatest difficulty of 
all,—unloading the boats in a heavy sea. With great diffi¬ 
culty we got all the hides aboard and stowed under hatches, 
the yard and stay tackles hooked on, and the launch and 
pinnace hoisted, chocked and griped. The quarter-boats 
were then hoisted up, and we began heaving in on the chain. 
Getting the anchor was no easy work in such a sea, but as 
we were not coming back to this port, the captain deter¬ 
mined not to slip. 

Having cleared the point and got well out to sea, we 
stood on, nearly before the wind, for San Pedro. It blew 
strong, with some rain, nearly all night, but fell calm 
toward morning, and the gale having gone over, we 
came to— 

Thursday, October 22.—At San Pedro, in the old south¬ 
easter berth, a league from shore. Here we lay ten days, 
with the usual boating, hide-carrying, rolling of cargo up 
the steep hill, walking bare-footed over stones, and getting 
drenched in salt water. 


124 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


While lying here we shipped one new hand, an English¬ 
man, of about two or three and twenty, who was quite an 
acquisition, as he proved to be a good sailor, could sing 
tolerably, and, what was of more importance to me, had 
a good education, and a somewhat remarkable history. 

He called himself George P. Marsh; professed to have 
been at sea from a small boy, and to have served his time 
in the smuggling trade between Germany and the coasts of 
France and England. Thus he accounted for his knowl¬ 
edge of the French language, which he spoke and read as 
well as he did English; but his cutter education would not 
account for his English, which was far too good to have 
been learned in a smuggler; for he wrote an uncommonly 
handsome hand, spoke with great correctness, and fre¬ 
quently, when in private talk with me, quoted from books, 
and showed a knowledge of the customs of society which 
surprised me. Still, he would give no other account of 
himself than that he was educated in a smuggler. A man 
whom we afterwards fell in with, who had been a shipmate 
of George’s a few years before, said that he heard at the 
boarding-house, from which they shipped, that George had 
been at a college, where he learned French and mathematics. 

After he had been a little while on board we learned 
from him his remarkable history for the last two years. 
He sailed from New York in the year 1833, if I mistake 
not, before the mast, in the brig Lascar for Canton. She 
was sold in the East Indies, and he shipped at Manila, in 
a small schooner bound on a trading voyage among the 
Ladrone and Pelew Islands. On one of the latter islands 
their schooner was wrecked on a reef and they were attacked 
by the natives, and, after a desperate resistance, in which all 
their number, except the captain, George, and a boy, were 
killed or drowned, they surrendered, and were carried, 
bound, in a canoe, to a neighbouring island. In about a 
month after this an opportunity occurred by which one of 
their number might get away. They yielded to the captain 
upon his promising to send them aid if he escaped. He was 


MORE LOADING OF HIDES 125 


successful in his attempt; got on board an American vessel, 
went back to Manila, and thence to America, without mak¬ 
ing any effort at their rescue. The boy that was with 
George died; and he, being alone, and there being no chance 
for his escape, the natives soon treated him with kindness, 
and even with attention. They painted him, tattooed his 
body, and, in fact, made quite a pet of him. In this way 
he lived for thirteen months, in a fine climate, with plenty 
to eat, half-naked, and nothing to do. One day he was 
out fishing in a small canoe with another man when he saw 
a large sail to windward, about a league and a half off, 
passing abreast of the island and standing westward. 

With some difficulty he persuaded the islander to go off 
with him to the ship, promising to return with a good supply 
of rum and tobacco. They paddled off in the track of the 
ship, and lay-to until she came down to them. George 
stepped on board the ship nearly naked, painted from head 
to foot, and in no way distinguishable from his companion 
until he began to speak. Upon this the people on board 
were not a little astonished, and having learned his story, 
the captain had him washed and clothed, and sending away 
the poor astonished native with a knife or two and some 
tobacco and calico, took George with him on the voyage. 
This was the ship Cabot of New York, Captain Low. She 
was bound to Manila, from across the Pacific, and George 
did seaman’s duty in her until her arrival in Manila, when 
he left her, and shipped in a brig bound to the Sandwich 
Islands. 

George had an interesting journal of his adventures in 
the Pelew Islands, which he had written out at length, in 
a handsome hand, and in correct English. 


CHAPTER XXI 


A JOKE ON THE SPANIARDS 

Sunday, November 1 .—Sailed this day for Santa Barbara, 
where we arrived on the 5th. Coming round St. Buena¬ 
ventura, and nearing the anchorage, we saw two vessels in 
port, a large full-rigged, and a small hermaphrodite brig. 
The former, the crew said, must be the Pilgrim; but a few 
minutes put it beyond a doubt, and we were lying by the 
side of the Ayacucho, which had sailed from San Diego 
about nine months before, while we were lying there in the 
Pilgrim. 

Tuesday, November 10 .—Going ashore, as usual, in the 
gig, just before sundown, to bring off the captain, we found, 
upon taking in the captain and pulling off again, that our 
ship, which lay the farthest out, had run up her ensign. 
This meant “Sail ho!” of course, but as we were within 
the point we could see nothing. “Give way, boys! Give 
way! Lay out on your oars, and long stroke!” said the 
captain; stretching to the whole length of our arms, bending 
back again, so that our backs touched the thwarts, we sent 
her through the water like a rocket. 

A few minutes of such pulling opened the islands, one 
after another, in range of the point, and gave us a view of 
the Canal, where was a ship, under top-gallant sails, stand- 
ingTnT with a light breeze, for the anchorage. Putting 
the boat’s head in the direction of the ship, the captain 
told us to lay out again; and we needed no spurring for 
the prospect of boarding a new ship, perhaps from home. 
Hearing the news was excitement enough for us, and we 
gave way with a will. There was a light land breeze all 

126 



Here was a grand chance for a rowing-match and everyone did his best 


























128 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


night, and the ship did not come to anchor until the next 
morning. 

As soon as her anchor was down we went aboard, and 
found her to be the whale-ship, Wilmington and Liverpool 
Packet, of New Bedford, last from the “off-shore ground,” 
with nineteen hundred barrels of oil. A “spouter” we knew 
her to be as soon as we saw her, by her cranes and boats, 
and by her stump topgallant masts, and a certain slovenly 
look to the sails, rigging, spars, and hull; and when we 
got on board, we found everything to correspond—spouter 
fashion. She had a false deck, which was rough and oily, 
and cut up in every direction by the chimes of oil-casks; 
her rigging was slack and turning white; no paint on the 
spars or blocks; clumsy seizings and straps without covers, 
and homeward-bound splices in every direction. Her crew, 
too, were not in much better order. Her captain was a 
Quaker, in a suit of brown, with a broad-brimmed hat, and 
the men looked more like fishermen and farmers than they 
did like sailors. 

We found they had been at sea six or eight months, and 
had no news to tell us; so we left them, and promised to 
get liberty to come on board in the evening, for some curi¬ 
osities, &c. Accordingly as soon as we were knocked oft 
in the evening and had got supper, we obtained leave, took 
a boat, and went aboard and spent an hour or two. 

Thursday , November 12 .—This day was quite cool in 
the early part, and there were black clouds about; but as 
it was often so in the morning nothing was apprehended, 
and all the captains went ashore together to spend the day. 
Towards noon, the clouds hung heavily over the mountains, 
coming half-way down the hills that encircle the town of 
Santa Barbara, and a heavy swell rolled in from the south¬ 
east. The mate immediately ordered the gig’s crew away, 
and, at the same time, we saw boats pulling ashore from 
the other vessels. Here was a grand chance for a rowing- 
match, and every one did his best. We passed the boats of 
the Ayacucho and Loriotte, but could gain nothing upon 


A JOKE ON THE SPANIARDS 129 


the long six-oared boat of the whale-ship. They reached 
the breakers before us; but here we had the advantage of 
them, for, not being used to the surf, they were obliged to 
wait to see us beach our boat. 

We had hardly got the boats beached before our old 
friend, Bill Jackson, who steered the Loriotte s boat, called 
out that the brig was adrift; and sure enough she was 
dragging her anchors, and drifting down into the bight of 
the bay. Without waiting for the captain, he sprang into 
the boat, called the Kanakas together, and tried to put off. 
But the Kanakas, though capital water-dogs, were fright¬ 
ened by their vessel’s being adrift, and by the emergency 
of the case, and seemed to lose their faculty. Then we 
came forward, told the Kanakas to take their seats in the 
boat, and going two on each side, walked out with her till 
it was up to our shoulders, and gave them a shove, when, 
giving way with their oars, they got her safely into the long 
regular swell. In the meantime boats had put off from 
our ship and the whaler, and coming all on board the brig 
together, they let go the other anchor, paid out chain, braced 
the yards to the wind, and brought the vessel up. 

In a few minutes the captains came hurrying down, on 
the run; and there was no time to be lost, for the gale 
promised to be a severe one, and the surf was breaking 
upon the beach, three deep, higher and higher every instant. 
The Ayacucho's boat, pulled by four Kanakas, put off first, 
and as they had no rudder or steering-oar, would probably 
never have got off had we not waded out with them as far 
as the surf would permit. The next that made the attempt 
was the whale-boat, for we, being the most experienced 
“beach-combers,” needed no help, and stayed till the last. 

Whalemen make the best boat’s crews in the world for 
a long pull; but this landing was new to them, and not¬ 
withstanding the examples they had had, they slued round 
and were hove up—boat, oars, and men—all together, high 
and dry upon the sand. The second time they filled, and 
had to turn their boat over and set her off again. We could 


130 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


be of no help to them, for they were so many as to be in 
one another’s way, without the addition of our numbers. 
The third time they got off, though not without shipping 
a sea which drenched them all, and half filled their boat, 
keeping them bailing until they reached their ship. We 
now got ready to go off, putting the boat’s head out; 
English Ben and I, who were the largest, standing on each 
side of the bows to keep her “head on” to the sea, two more 
shipping and manning the two after oars, and the captain 
taking the steering-oar. Two or three Spaniards, who 
stood upon the beach looking at us, wrapped their cloaks 
about them, shook their heads, and muttered, “Caramba!” 
They had no taste for such doings 

Watching for a “smooth chance,” we determined to show 
the other boats the way it should be done; and, as soon as 
ours floated, ran out with her, keeping her head on with 
all our strength and the help of the captain’s oar, and the 
two after oarsmen giving way regularly and strongly, until 
our feet were off the ground, we tumbled into the bows, 
keeping perfectly still from fear of hindering the others. 
For some time it was doubtful how it would go. The boat 
stood nearly up and down in the water, and the sea, rolling 
from under her, let her fall upon the water-with a force 
which seemed almost to stave her bottom in. By quietly 
sliding two oars forward along the thwarts, without im¬ 
peding the rowers, we shipped two bow oars, and thus, by 
the help of four oars and the captain’s strong arm, we got 
safely off, though we shipped several seas, which left us 
half full of water. We pulled alongside of the Loriotte, 
put her skipper on board, and found her making prepara¬ 
tions for slipping, and then pulled aboard our own ship. 
Here Mr. Brown, always “on hand,” had got everything 
ready, so that we had only to hook on the gig and hoist it 
up, when the order was given to loose the sails. 

While we were on the yards, we saw the Loriotte under 
way, and before our yards were mast-headed, the Ayacucho 
had spread her wings, and, with yards braced sharp up, 


A JOKE ON THE SPANIARDS 131 


was standing athwart our hawse. There is no prettier sight 
in the world than a full-rigged, clipper-built brig, sailing 
sharp on the wind. In a moment our slip-rope was gone, 
the head-yards filled away, and we were off. Next came 
the whaler; and in half an hour from the time when four 
vessels were lying quietly at anchor, without a rag out, or 
a sign of motion, the bay was deserted, and four white 
clouds were standing off to sea. Being sure of clearing the 
point, we stood off with our yards a little braced in, while 
the Ayacucho went off with a taut bowline, which brought 
her to windward of us. 

During all this day, and the greater part of the night, 
we had the usual southeaster entertainment. At daybreak, 
the clouds thinned off and rolled away, and the sun came 
up clear. The wind, instead of coming out from the north¬ 
ward, as is usual, blew steadily and freshly from the 
anchoring-ground. This was bad for us, for we had de¬ 
pended upon a fair wind, with which, by the help of our 
light sails and studding-sails, we meant to have been the 
first at the anchoring-ground; but the Ayacucho was a good 
league to windward of us, and was standing in, in fine style, 
and when we reached the anchoring-ground, she had got her 
anchor, furled her sails, squared her yards, and was lying 
as quietly as if nothing had happened for the last twenty- 
four hours. 

Saturday , November 14 .—This day we got under way, 
with the agent and several Spaniards of note, as passengers, 
bound up to Monterey. We went ashore in the gig to 
bring them off with their baggage, and found them waiting 
on the beach, and a little afraid about going off, as the 
surf was running very high. This was nuts to us; for we 
liked to have a Spaniard wet with salt water; and then the 
agent was very much disliked by the crew, one and all; 
and we hoped, as there was no officer in the boat, to have 
a chance to duck them; for we knew that they were such 
“marines” that they would not know whether it was our 
fault or not. Accordingly, we kept the boat so far from 


132 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


shore as to oblige them to wet their feet in getting into 
her; and then waited for a good high comber, and letting 
the head slue a little round, sent the whole force of the 
sea into the stern-sheets, drenching them from head to feet. 
The Spaniards sprang out of the boat, swore, and shook 
themselves, and protested against trying it again; and it 
was with the greatest difficulty that the agent could prevail 
upon them to make another attempt. The next time we 
took care, and went off easily enough, and pulled aboard. 
The crew came to the side to hoist in their baggage, and 
we gave them the wink, and they heartily enjoyed the half- 
drowned looks of the company. 

Everything being now ready, and the passengers aboard, 
we ran up the ensign and broad pennant, and the other 
vessels ran up their ensigns. 

The whole canvas of the ship was loosed, and with the 
greatest rapidity possible, everything was sheeted home and 
hoisted up, the anchor tripped and cat-headed, and the ship 
under headway, her sails looking like a great white cloud 
resting upon a black speck. The breeze died away at night, 
and we were becalmed all day on Sunday, about half-way 
between Santa Barbara and Point Concepcion. Sunday 
night we had a light fair wind, which set us up again; and 
having a fine sea-breeze on the first part of Monday, we 
had the prospect of passing, without any trouble, Point 
Concepcion. Towards the latter part of the afternoon, 
however, the regular northwest wind, as usual, set in, which 
gave us the chance of beating round the Point, which we 
were now just abreast of. A capful of wind will be a 
bagful here; and before night our royals were furled, and 
the ship was labouring hard under her top-gallant sails. At 
eight bells our watch went below, leaving her with as much 
sail as she could stagger under, the water flying over the 
forecastle at every plunge. 

We had been below but a short time before we had the 
usual premonitions of a coming gale, seas washing over the 
whole forward part of the vessel, and her bows beating 


A JOKE ON THE SPANIARDS 133 


against them with a force and sound like the driving of 
piles. In a short time we heard the topgallant sails come 
in, one after another, and then the flying jib. This seemed 
to ease her a good deal, and we were fast going off to the 
land of Nod, when bang, bang, bang on the scuttle and 
“All hands reef topsails, ahoy!” started us out of our berths, 
and, it not being very cold weather, we had nothing extra 
to put on, and were soon on deck. I shall never forget the 
fineness of the sight. It was a clear and rather a chilly 
night, the stars were twinkling with an intense brightness, 
and as far as the eye could reach there was not a cloud to 
be seen. Yet it was blowing great guns from the north¬ 
west. One reef after another we took in the topsails, and 
before we could get them hoisted up we heard a sound like 
a short, quick rattling of thunder, and the jib was blown 
to atoms out of the bolt-rope. We got the topsails set, 
and the fragments of the jib stowed away, and the fore 
topmast stay-sail set in its place, when the great mainsail 
gaped open and the sail ripped from head to foot. “Lay 
up on that main-yard and furl the sail before it blows to 
tatters!” shouted the captain; and in a moment we were 
up gathering the remains of it upon the yard. We got it 
wrapped round the yard, and were just on deck again when, 
with another loud rent which was heard throughout the 
ship, the foretop-sail, which had been double-reefed, split 
in two. 

For three days and three nights the gale continued with 
unabated fury and with singular regularity. There were 
no lulls, and very little variation in its fierceness. Our 
ship, being light, rolled so as almost to send the fore-yard¬ 
arm under water, and drifted off bodily to leeward. All 
this time there was not a cloud to be seen in the sky, day 
or night. Every mprning the sun rose cloudless from the 
sea, and set again at night in the sea, in a flood of light. 
The stars, too, came out of the blue, one after another, 
night after night, unobscured, and twinkled as clear as on 
a still frosty night at home, until the day came upon them. 


134 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


All this time the sea was rolling in immense surges, white 
with foam, as far as the eye could reach on every side, for 
we were now leagues and leagues from shore. 

During these seventy-two hours we had nothing to do 
but to turn in and out, four hours on deck and four below, 
eat, sleep, and keep watch. 

Once the wheel-rope parted, which might have been fatal 
to us had not the chief mate sprung instantly with a reliev¬ 
ing tackle to windward and kept the tiller up till a new 
one could be rove. On the morning of the 20th, at day¬ 
break, the gale had evidently done its worst, and had some¬ 
what abated—so much so that all hands were called to 
bend new sails, although it was still blowing as hard as two 
common gales. One at a time, and with great difficulty 
and labour, the old sails were unbent and sent down by 
the buntlines, and three new topsails, made for the home¬ 
ward passage round Cape Horn, and which had never been 
bent, were got up from the sail-room and fitted for bending, 
and sent up by the halyards into the tops, and were bent 
to the yards, close reefed, sheeted home, and hoisted. 

Towards night a few clouds appeared in the horizon, 
and as the gale moderated, the usual appearance of driving 
clouds relieved the face of the sky. The fifth day after 
the commencement of the storm we shook a reef out of each 
topsail, jib, and spanker; but it was not until after eight 
days of reefed topsails that we had a whole sail on the ship. 

Friday , December 4 .—After a passage of twenty days we 
arrived at the mouth of the bay of San Francisco. 


CHAPTER XXII 




SAN FRANCISCO 

Our place of destination had been Monterey; but as we 
were to the northward of it when the wind hauled ahead, 
we made a fair wind for San Francisco. About thirty miles 
from the mouth of the bay, and on the southeast side, is a 
high point upon which the Presidio is built. Behind this 
is the harbour in which trading vessels anchor, and near it 
the Mission of San Francisco, and a newly-begun settlement 
mostly of Yankee Californians called Yerba Buena. Here 
at anchor, and the only vessel, was a brig under Russian 
colours, from Asitka, in Russian America, which had come 
down to winter, and to take in a supply of tallow and grain, 
great quantities of which latter article are raised in the 
missions at the head of the bay. The second day after our 
arrival, it being Sunday, we went on board the brig as a 
matter of curiosity; and there was enough there to gratify 
it. Though no larger than the Pilgrim , she had five or six 
officers, and a crew of between twenty and thirty; and such 
a stupid and greasy-looking set I certainly never saw before. 
Although it was quite comfortable weather, and we had 
nothing on but straw hats, shirts, and duck trousers, and 
were barefooted, they had, every man of them, double-soled 
boots, coming up to the knees, and well greased; thick 
woollen trousers, frocks, waistcoats, pea-jackets, woollen 
caps, and everything in true Nova Zembla rig; and in the 
warmest days they made no change. The clothing of one 
of these men would weigh nearly as much as that of half 
our crew. They had brutish faces, looked like the antipodes 
of sailors, and apparently dealt in nothing but grease. They 
lived upon grease—ate it, drank it, slept in the midst of it, 

135 


136 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 

and their clothes were covered with it. They looked with 
greedy eyes upon the tallow-bags as they were taken into 
the vessel, and no doubt would have eaten one up whole 
had not the officer kept watch over it. The grease seemed 
actually coming through their pores, and out in their hair, 
and on their faces. It seems as if it were this saturation 
which makes them stand cold and rain so well., If they were 
to go into a warm climate they would all die of the scurvy. 

The vessel was no better than the crew. Everything 
was in the oldest and most inconvenient fashion possible. 
The topmasts, topgallant masts, and studding-sail booms 
were nearly black for want of scraping, and the decks would 
have turned the stomach of a man-of-war’s man. The 
galley was down in the forecastle; and there the crew lived, 
in the midst of the steam and grease of the cooking, in a 
place as hot as an oven and as dirty as a pigsty. Five minutes 
in the forecastle was enough for us, and we were glad to 
get into the open air. 

We made some trade with them, buying Indian curiosi¬ 
ties, of which they had a great number; such as bead-work, 
feathers of birds, fur moccasins, &c. I purchased a large 
robe, made of the skins of some animal, dried and sewed 
nicely together, and covered all over on the outside with 
thick downy feathers, taken from the breasts of various 
birds and arranged with their different colours so as to make 
a brilliant show. 

A few days after our arrival the rainy season set in, and 
for three weeks it rained almost every hour without cessa¬ 
tion. This was bad for our trade, for the collecting of 
hides is managed differently in this port from what it is 
in any other on the coast. The Mission of San Francisco, 
near the anchorage, has no trade at all, but those of San 
Jose, Santa Clara and others situated on large creeks or 
rivers which run into the bay and distant between fifteen 
and forty miles from the anchorage, do a greater business 
in hides than any in California. Large boats manned by 
Indians, and capable of carrying nearly a thousand hides 


SAN FRANCISCO 


137 


apiece, are attached to the missions, and sent down to the 
vessels with hides, to bring away goods in return. 

One cold, rainy evening I received orders to get ready 
to start for San Jose at four the next morning, in one of 
these Indian boats, with four days’ provisions. I turned 
into my hammock early, determined to get some sleep in 
advance, as the boat was to be alongside before daybreak. 
I slept on till all hands were called in the morning; for, 
fortunately for me, the Indian^ intentionally, or from mis¬ 
taking their orders, had gone off alone in the night, and 
were far out of sight. Thus I escaped three or four days 
of very uncomfortable service. 

Four of our men a few days afterwards went up in one 
of the quarter-boats to Santa Clara to carry the agent, and 
remained out all night in a drenching rain in the small 
boat, where there was not room for them to turn round; 
the agent, having gone up to the mission, left the men to 
their fate, making no provision for their accommodation, 
and not even sending them anything to eat. After this they 
had to pull thirty miles, and when they got on board were 
so stiff that they could not come up the gangway ladder. 
This filled up the measure of the agent’s unpopularity, and 
never after this could he get anything done by any of the 
crew; and many a delay and vexation, and many a good 
ducking in the surf, did he get to pay up old scores, or 
“square the yards with the dirty quill-driver.” 

Having collected nearly all the hides that were to be 
procured, we began our preparations for taking in a supply 
of wood and water, for both of which San Francisco is the 
best place on the coast. A small island, situated about two 
leagues from the anchorage, called by us “Wood Island,” 
and by the Spaniards “Isla de los Angelos,” was covered 
with trees to the water’s edge; and to this, two of our crew, 
who were Kennebec men, and could handle an axe like a 
plaything, were sent every morning to cut wood, with two 
boys to pile it up for them. In about a week they had cut 
enough to last us a year; and the third mate, with myself 


138 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


and three others, were sent over in a large, schooner-rigged, 
open launch, which we had hired of the mission, to take in 
the wood and bring it to the ship. We left the ship about 
noon, but, owing to a strong head-wind, and a tide which 
here runs four or five knots, did not go into the harbour, 
formed by two points of the island, where the boats lie, 
until sundown. No sooner had we come-to than a strong 
southeaster, which had been threatening us all day, set in, 
with heavy rain and a chilly atmosphere. 

We were in rather a bad situation—an open boat, a 
heavy rain, and a long night—for in winter, in this latitude, 
it was dark nearly fifteen hours. Taking a small skiff which 
we had brought with us, we went ashore, but found no 
shelter, for everything was open to the rain; and collecting 
a little wood, which we found by lifting up the leaves and 
brush, and a few mussels, we put aboard again and made 
the best preparations in our power for passing the night. 
We unbent the mainsail, and formed an awning with it 
over the after-part of the boat, made a bed of wet logs of 
wood, and, with our jackets on, lay down about six o’clock 
to sleep. Finding the rain running down upon us, and our 
jackets getting wet through, and the rough, knotty logs 
rather indifferent couches, we turned out; and taking an 
iron pan which we brought with us, we wiped it out dry, 
put some stones around it, cut the wet bark from some 
sticks, and striking a light, made a small fire in the pan. 
Keeping some sticks near to dry, and covering the whole 
over with a roof of boards, we kept up a small fire, by 
which we cooked our mussels, and ate them, rather for an 
occupation than from hunger. 

Toward morning the rain ceased, and the air became 
sensibly colder, so that we found sleep impossible, and sat 
up, watching for daybreak. No sooner was it light than 
we went ashore and began our preparations for loading our 
vessel. We were not mistaken in the coldness of the 
weather, for a white frost was on the ground, a thing we 
had never seen before in California, and one or two little 


SAN FRANCISCO 


139 


puddles of fresh water were skimmed over with a thin coat 
of ice. In this state of the weather, and before sunrise, in 
the grey of the morning, we had to wade off, nearly up 
to our hips in water, to load the skiff with the wood by 
armfuls. We were all day at this work, and toward sun¬ 
down, having loaded the vessel as deep as she would bear, 
we hove up our anchor and made sail, beating out of the 
bay. 

Having now taken in all our wood, the next morning a 
water-party was ordered off with all the casks. From this 
we escaped, having had a pretty good siege with the wood¬ 
ing. The water-party were gone three days, during which 
time they narrowly escaped being carried out to sea, and 
passed one day on an island, where one of them shot a deer, 
great numbers of which overrun the islands and hills of 
San Francisco Bay. 

While not off on these wood and water parties, or up 
the rivers to the missions, we had very easy times on board 
the ship. We were moored, stem and stern, within a cable’s 
length of the shore, safe from southeasters, and with very 
little boating to do; and as it rained nearly all the time, 
awnings were put over the hatchways, and all hands sent 
down between decks, where we were at work day after day 
picking oakum, until we got enough to caulk the ship all 
over, and to last the whole voyage. Then we made a whole 
suit of gaskets for the voyage home, a pair of wheel-ropes 
from strips of green hide, great quantities of spun-yarn, and 
everything else that could be made between decks. It being 
now mid-winter and in high latitude, the nights were very 
long, so that we were not turned to until seven in the morn¬ 
ing, and were obliged to knock off at five in the evening, 
when we got supper, which gave us nearly three hours before 
eight bells, at which time the watch was set. 

As we had now been about a year on the coast, it was 
time to think of the voyage home; and knowing that the 
last two or three months of our stay would be very busy 
ones, and that we should never have so good an opportunity 


140 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


to work for ourselves as the present, we all employed our 
evenings in making clothes for the passage home, and more 
especially for Cape Horn. Industry was the order of the 
day, and every one did something for himself; for we knew 
that as the season advanced, and we went farther south, we 
should have no evenings to work in. 

Friday, December 25 .—This day was Christmas; and as 
it rained all day long, and there were no hides to take in, 
and nothing especial to do, the captain gave us a holiday and 
plum duff for dinner. 

Sunday, December 27.—Having finished all our business 
at this port, we unmoored ship and got under way. 

We. sailed down this magnificent bay with a light wind, 
the tide, which was running out, carrying us at the rate of 
four or five knots. 

If California ever becomes a prosperous country this bay 
will be the centre of its prosperity. The abundance of wood 
and water, the extreme fertility of its shores, the excellence 
of its climate, which is as near to being perfect as any in 
the world, and its facilities for navigation, affording the best 
anchoring-grounds in the whole western coast of America, 
all fit it for a place of great importance. 

The tide leaving us, we came to anchor near the mouth 
of the bay, under a high and beautifully sloping hill, upon 
which herds of hundreds of red deer and the stag, with his 
high-branching antlers, were bounding about, looking at us 
for a moment, and then starting off, affrighted at the noises 
which we made for the purpose of seeing th£ variety of 
their beautiful attitudes and motions. 

At midnight, the tide having turned, we hove up our 
anchor and stood out of the bay, with a fine starry heaven 
above us. Before the light northerly winds, which blow 
here with the regularity of trades, we worked slowly along, 
and made point Ano Nuevo, the northerly point of the bay 
of Monterey, on Monday afternoon. It was ten o’clock on 
Tuesday morning when we came to anchor. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


A CALIFORNIA WEDDING 

The brig Pilgrim had been lying in Monterey through 
the latter part of November, according to orders, waiting 
for us. Day after day Captain Faucon went up to the hill 
to look out for us, and at last gave us up, thinking we must 
have gone down in the gale which we experienced off Point 
Concepcion, and which had blown with great fury over the 
whole coast, driving ashore several vessels in the snuggest 
ports. 

As we were to be here over Sunday, and we had had no 
liberty day for nearly three months, every one was for going 
ashore. On Sunday morning, as soon as the decks were 
washed and we had got breakfast, those who had obtained 
liberty began to clean themselves, as it is called, to go ashore. 
A bucket of fresh water apiece, a cake of soap, a large coarse 
towel, and we went to work scrubbing one another on the 
forecastle. Having gone through this, the next thing was 
to get into the head—one on each side—with a bucket 
apiece, and duck one another by drawing up water and 
heaving over each other, while we were stripped to a pair 
of trousers. Then came the rigging-up. The usual outfit 
of pumps, white stockings, loose white duck trousers, blue 
jackets, clean checked shirts, black kerchiefs, hats well var¬ 
nished, with a fathom of black ribbon over the left eye, a 
silk handkerchief flying from the outside jacket pocket, and 
four or five dollars tied up in the back of the neckerchief, 
and we were “all right.” 

One of the quarter-boats pulled us ashore, and we 
streamed up to the town. I tried to find the church, in 
order to see the worship, but was told that there was no 

141 


142 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


service, except a mass early in the morning, so we went 
about the town, visiting the Americans and English, and the 
natives whom we had known when we were here before. 
Toward noon we procured horses, and rode out to the 
Carmel Mission, where we got something in the way of a 
dinner—beef, eggs, frijoles, tortillas, and some middling 
wine—from the mayordomo, who, of course, refused to make 
any charge, yet received our present as a gratuity. 

After this repast we had a fine run, scouring the whole 
country on our fleet horses, and came into town soon after 
sundown. Here we found our companions who had refused 
to go to ride with us. They were moored, stem and stern, 
in a grog-shop, making a great noise, with a crowd of In¬ 
dians and hungry half-breeds about them, and with a fair 
prospect of being stripped and dirked, or left to pass the 
night in the calabozo. With a great deal of trouble we 
managed to get them down to the boats, though not with¬ 
out many angry looks and interferences from the Spaniards, 
who had marked them out for their prey. 

Nothing worthy of remark happened while we were here, 
except a little boxing-match on board our own ship, which 
gave us something to talk about. A broad-backed, big¬ 
headed Cape Cod boy, about sixteen years old, had been 
playing the bully for the whole voyage over a slender, deli¬ 
cate-looking boy from one of the Boston schools, over whom 
he had much the advantage in strength, age, and experience 
in the ship’s duty. The latter, however, had “picked up his 
crumbs,” was learning his duty, and getting strength and 
confidence daily, and began to assert his rights against his 
oppressor. Still the other was his master, and always 
tackled with him and threw him down. 

One afternoon before we were turned-to, these boys got 
into a violent squabble in the between decks, when George 
(the Boston boy) said he would fight Nat, if he could have 
fair play. The chief mate heard the noise, dove down the 
hatchway, hauled them both up on deck, and told them to 
shake hands and have no more trouble for the voyage, or else 


A CALIFORNIA WEDDING 


143 


they should fight till one gave in for beaten. Finding neither 
willing to make an offer of reconciliation, he called all hands 
up, ranged the crew in the waist, marked a line on the deck, 
brought the two boys up to it, making them “toe the mark.” 
And there they stood, one on each side of it, face to face, 
and went at it like two game-cocks. 

The Cape Cod boy, Nat, put in his double-fisters, starting 
the blood, and bringing the black and blue spots all over 
the face and arms of the other, whom we expected to see 
give in every moment; but the more he was hurt the better 
he fought. Time after time he was knocked nearly down, 
but up he came again and faced the mark, as bold as a lion, 
again to take the heavy blows, which sounded so as to make 
one’s heart turn with pity for him. At length he came up to 
the mark the last time, his shirt torn from his body, his face 
covered with blood and bruises, and his eyes flashing fire, 
and swore he would stand there until the one or the other 
was killed, and set to like a young fury. “Hurrah in the 
bow!” said the men, cheering him on. 

Nat tried to close with him, knowing his advantage, but 
the mate stopped that, saying there should be fair play and 
no fingering. Nat then came up to the mark, but looked 
white about the mouth, and his blows were not given with 
half the spirit of his first. He was evidently cowed. He 
had always been master, and had nothing to gain and every¬ 
thing to lose; while the other fought for honour and free¬ 
dom, and under a sense of wrong. It would not do. It was 
soon over. Nat gave in; not so much beaten, as cowed and 
mortified; and never afterwards tried to act the bully on 
board. We took George forward, washed him in the deck- 
tub, complimented his pluck, and from this time he became 
somebody on board, having fought himself into notice. 

Wednesday, January 6 .—Set sail from Monterey with 
a number of Spaniards as passengers, and shaped our course 
for Santa Barbara. Among our passengers was a young man 
who was the best representation of a decayed gentleman I 
had ever seen. He was of the aristocracy of the country, 


144 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


his family being of pure Spanish blood, and once of great 
importance in Mexico. His father had been governor of 
the province, and having amassed a large property, settled 
at San Diego, where he built a large house, kept a great 
retinue of Indians, and set up for the grandee of that part 
of the country. His son was sent to Mexico, where he 
received the best education, and went into the first society 
of the capital. Misfortune, extravagance, and the want of 
funds soon ate the estate up, and Don Juan Bandini re¬ 
turned from Mexico accomplished, poor, and proud, and 
without any office or occupation, to lead the life of most 
young men of the better families—dissolute and extravagant 
when the means are at hand. 

He had a slight and elegant figure, moved gracefully, 
danced and waltzed beautifully, spoke the best of Castilian, 
with a pleasant and refined voice and accent, and had 
throughout the bearing of a man of high birth and figure. 
Yet here he was, with his passage given him, for he had 
not the means of paying for it, and living upon the charity 
of our agent. I could not but feel a pity for him, especially 
when I saw him by the side of his fellow-passenger and 
townsman, a fat, coarse, vulgar, pretending fellow of a 
Yankee trader, who had made money in San Diego, and 
was eating out the very vitals of the Bandinis, fattening 
upon their extravagance, grinding them in their poverty; 
having mortgages on their lands, forestalling their cattle, 
and already making an inroad upon their jewels, which 
were their last hope. 

Don Juan had with him a retainer, who was as much 
like many of the characters of Gil Bias as his master. He 
called himself a private secretary, though there was no writ¬ 
ing for him to do, and he lived in the steerage with the car¬ 
penter and sailmaker. He was certainly a character; could 
read and write extremely well, spoke good Spanish, had been 
all over Spanish America, and lived in every possible situa¬ 
tion, and served in every conceivable capacity, though gen¬ 
erally in that of confidential servant to some man of figure. 


A CALIFORNIA WEDDING 


145 


Sunday , January 10 .—Arrived at Santa Barbara, and on 
the following Wednesday slipped our cable and went to 
sea, on account of a southeaster. Returned to our anchor¬ 
age the next day. We were the only vessel in the port. 

Great preparations were making on shore for the marriage 
of our agent, who was to marry Donna Anneta De G— 
De N—y C—, youngest daughter of Don Antonio N—, 
the grandee of the place, and the head of the first family in 
California. On the day appointed for the wedding we took 
the captain ashore in the gig, and had orders to come for 
him at night, with leave to go up to the house and see the 
fandango. At ten o’clock the bride went up with her sister 
to the confessional, dressed in deep black. Nearly an hour 
intervened, when the great doors of the mission-church 
opened, the bells rang out a loud, discordant peal, a private 
signal for us was run up by the captain ashore, the bride, 
dressed in complete white, came out of the church with the 
bridegroom, followed by a long procession. Just as she 
stepped from the church-door, a small white cloud issued 
from the bows of our ship, which was full in sight, a loud 
report echoed among the surrounding hills and over the bay, 
and instantly the ship was dressed in flags and pennants from 
stem to stern. Twenty-three guns followed in regular suc¬ 
cession, with an interval of fifteen seconds between each, 
when the cloud cleared away, and the ship lay dressed in her 
colours all day. At sundown another salute of the same 
number of guns was fired, and all the flags run down. 

After supper we rowed ashore, dressed in our uniform, 
beached the boat, and went up to the fandango. As we 
drew near we heard the accustomed sound of violins and 
guitars, and saw a great motion of the people within. Going 
in, we found nearly all the people of the town—men, 
women, and children—collected and crowded together, 
leaving barely room for the dancers; for on these occasions 
no invitations are given, but every one is expected to come, 
though there is always a private entertainment within the 
house for particular friends. The old women sat down in 


146 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


rows, clapping their hands to the music, and applauding the 
young ones. 

In the dancing I was much disappointed. The women 
stood upright with their hands down by their sides, their 
eyes fixed upon the ground before them, and slid about 
without any perceptible means of motion; for their feet 
were invisible, the hem of their dresses forming a perfect 
circle about them, reaching to the ground. They looked as 
grave as though they were going through some religious 
ceremony; and on the whole, instead of the spirited, fascinat¬ 
ing Spanish dances which I had expected, I found the Cali¬ 
fornian fandango, on the part of the women at least, a life¬ 
less affair. The men did better. They danced with grace 
and spirit, moving in circles round their nearly stationary 
partners, and showing their figures to great advantage. 

A great deal was said about our friend Don Juan Bandini; 
and when he did appear, which was toward the close of the 
evening, he certainly gave us the most graceful dancing 
that I had ever seen. He was dressed in white pantaloons, 
neatly made, a short jacket of dark silk gaily figured, white 
stockings and thin morocco slippers upon his very small feet. 
After the supper the waltzing began, which was confined to 
a very few of the “gente de razon,” and was considered a 
high accomplishment and a mark of aristocracy. 

The great amusement of the evening—which I suppose 
was owing to its being carnival—was the breaking of eggs 
filled with cologne, or other essences, upon the heads of the 
company. One end of the egg is broken and the inside 
taken out, then it is partly filled with cologne, and the hole 
sealed up. The women bring a great number of these 
secretly about them, and the amusement is, to break one upon 
the head of a gentleman when his back is turned. He is 
bound in gallantry to find out the lady and return the com¬ 
pliment, though it must not be done if the person sees you. 

A tall, stately don, with immense grey whiskers and a 
look of great importance, was standing before me, when 


A CALIFORNIA WEDDING 


147 


I felt a light hand on my shoulder, and turning round saw 
Donna Angustia (whom we all knew, as she had been up 
to Monterey and down again in the Alert), with her finger 
upon her lip, motioning me gently aside. I stepped back 
a little, when she went up behind the don, and with one 
hand knocked off his huge sombrero, and at the same in¬ 
stant, with the other, broke the egg upon his head, and 
springing behind me was out of sight in a moment. The 
don turned slowly round, the cologne running down his 
face and over his clothes, and a loud laugh breaking out 
from every quarter. He looked round in vain for some time, 
until the direction of so many laughing eyes showed him the 
fair offender. She was his niece, and a great favourite with 
him, so old Don Domingo had to join in the laugh. A great 
many such tricks were played, and many a war of sharp 
manoeuvring was carried on between couples of the younger 
people; and at every successful exploit a general laugh was 
raised. 

The captain sent for us about ten o’clock, and we went 
aboard in high spirits, having enjoyed the new scene much, 
and were of great importance among the crew, from having 
so much to tell, and from the prospect of going every night 
until it was over; for these fandangos generally last three 
days. The next day two of us were sent up to the town, 
and took care to come back by way of Captain Noriego’s. 
The musicians were still there, upon their platform, scrap¬ 
ing and twanging away, and a few people, apparently of the 
lower classes, were dancing. The dancing is kept up at 
intervals throughout the day, but the crowd, the spirit, and 
the elite come in at night. The next night, which was the 
last, we went ashore in the same manner, until we got 
almost tired of the monotonous twang of the instruments, 
and the drawling sounds which the women kept up as an 
accompaniment. 

This last night they kept it up in great style, and were 
getting into a high-go, when the captain called us off to go 


148 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


aboard, for, it being southeaster season, he was afraid to 
remain on shore long; and it was well he did not, for that 
very night we slipped our cables, as a crowner to our fun 
ashore, and stood off before a southeaster, which lasted 
twelve hours. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


A SICK KANAKA 

Monday , February 1 .—After having been in port twenty- 
one days we sailed for San Pedro, where we arrived on the 
following day. Here we found the Ayacucho and the Pil¬ 
grim, which last we had not seen since the 11th of Septem¬ 
ber—nearly five months; and I really felt something like an 
affection for the old brig which had been my first home, and 
in which I had spent nearly a year, and got the first rough 
and tumble of a sea-life. I went on board the first night, 
after supper; found the old cook in the galley, playing upon 
the fife which I had given him as a parting present; and 
dove down into the forecastle, where were my old ship¬ 
mates, the same as ever, glad to see me, for they had nearly 
given us up as lost. We both got under way on the 4th, 
she bound up to San Francisco again, and we to San Diego, 
where we arrived on the 6th. 

We were always glad to see San Diego, it being the 
depot, and a snug little place, and seeming quite like home, 
especially to me, who had spent a summer there. We dis¬ 
charged our hides, and in four days were ready to sail again 
for the windward, and, to our great joy, for the last time! 
Over thirty thousand hides had been already collected, cured, 
and stowed away in the house, which, together with what 
we should collect and the Pilgrim would bring down from 
San Francisco, would make out our cargo. 

I spent one evening, as had been my custom, at the oven 
with the Sandwich Islanders; but it was far from being 
the usual noisy, laughing time. It has been said that the 
greatest curse to each of the South Sea Islands was the first 
man who discovered it. The white men, with their vices, 

149 


150 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


have brought in diseases before unknown to the islanders, 
which are now sweeping off the native population of the 
Sandwich Islands at the rate of one-fortieth of the entire 
population annually. The curse of a people calling them¬ 
selves Christian seems to follow them everywhere; and even 
here, in this obscure place, lay two young islanders, whom I 
had left strong, active young men, in the vigour of health, 
wasting away under a disease which they would never have 
known but for their intercourse with Christianized Mexico 
and people from Christian America. One of them was not 
so ill, and was moving about, smoking his pipe and talking, 
and trying to keep up his spirits; but the other, who was my 
friend, and aikane —Hope—was the most dreadful object I 
had ever seen in my life; his eyes sunken and dead, his 
cheeks fallen in against his teeth, his hands looking like 
claws; a dreadful cough, which seemed to rack his whole 
shattered system, a hollow, whispering voice, and an entire 
inability to move himself. There he lay, upon a mat on 
the ground, which was the only floor of the oven, with no 
medicine, no comforts, and no one to care for or help him 
but a few Kanakas, who were willing enough, but could 
do nothing. The sight of him made me sick and faint. 
Poor fellow! During the four months that I lived upon the 
beach we were continually together, both in work and in our 
excursions in the woods and upon the water. I really felt 
a strong affection for him, and preferred him to any of my 
own countrymen there. When I came into the oven he 
looked at me, held out his hand, and said in a low voice, 
but with a delightful smile, “Aloha, Aikane! Aloha nui!” 
I comforted him as well as I could, and promised to ask the 
captain to help him from the medicine-chest. 

I could not get the thought of the poor fellow out of my 
head all night; his horrible suffering, and his apparently 
inevitable, horrible end. 

The next day I told the captain of Hope’s state, and asked 
him if he would be so kind as to go and see him. 

“What! a Kanaka?” 


A SICK KANAKA 151 

Yes, sir,” said I; “but he has worked four years for our 
vessels.” 

The captain used a brutal expression and walked off. 

This same man died afterwards of a fever on the deadly 
coast of Sumatra. God grant he had better care taken of 
him in his sufferings than he ever gave to any one else! 

Finding nothing was to be got from the captain, I went 
to the mate and told him the case. Mr. Brown had been 
intrusted with the general care of the medicine-chest, and, 
although a driving fellow, he had good feelings, and was 
always inclined to be kind to the sick. He said that Hope 
was not strictly one of the crew; but as he was in our em¬ 
ploy when taken sick, he should have the necessary medi¬ 
cines; and he got them and gave them to me, with leave to 
go ashore at night. Nothing could exceed the delight of the 
Kanakas when I came bringing the medicines. 

Poor Hope was so much revived at the bare thought of 
anything being done for him that he was already stronger 
and better. I knew he must die as he was, and he could 
but die under the medicines, and any chance was worth 
running. The applications, internal and external, were 
powerful, and I gave him strict directions to keep warm and 
sheltered, telling him it was his only chance for life. Twice 
after this I visited him, having only time to run up while 
waiting in the boat. He promised to take his medicines 
regularly until we returned, and insisted upon it that he was 
doing better. 

We got under way on the 10th, bound up to San Pedro, 
and had three days of calm and head-winds, making but 
little progress. Arrived at San Pedro on the fourth day, 
and came-to in the old place a league from shore, with no 
other vessel in port, and the prospect of three weeks or more 
of dull life, rolling goods up a slippery hill, carrying hides 
on our heads over sharp stones, and perhaps slipping for a 
southeaster. 

Russell, who was master of the hide-house at San Diego 
while I was there, was afterwards turned away for his mis- 


152 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


conduct. He spent his own money and nearly all the stores 
among the half-bloods upon the beach, and, being turned 
away, went up to the Presidio, where he lived the life of a 
desperate “loafer,” until some rascally deed sent him off 
“between two days,” with men on horseback, dogs, and 
Indians in full cry after him among the hills. One night 
he burst into our room at the hide-house, breathless, pale as 
a ghost, covered with mud, and torn by thorns and briers, 
nearly naked, and begged for a crust of bread, saying he had 
neither eaten nor slept for three days. Here was the great 
Mr. Russell begging food and shelter of Kanakas and sailors. 
He stayed with us till he gave himself up and was dragged 
off to the calabozo. 

Saturday, February 13. —Were called up at midnight to 
slip for a violent northeaster. We went off with a flowing 
sheet, and hove-to under the lee of Catalina island, where 
we lay three days, and then returned to our anchorage. 

Tuesday , February 23. —This afternoon a signal was 
made from the shore, and we went off in the gig, and found 
the agent’s clerk, who had been up to the Pueblo, waiting 
at the landing-place, with a package under his arm, cov¬ 
ered with brown paper, and tied carefully with twine. 

No sooner had we shoved off than he told us there was 
good news from Santa Barbara. 

“What’s that?” said one of the crew; “has the agent 
slipped off the hooks?” “No; better than that. The Cali¬ 
fornia has arrived.” Letters, papers, news, and, perhaps— 
friends, on board! Our hearts were all up in our mouths, 
and we pulled away like good fellows; for the precious 
packet could not be opened except by the captain. As we 
pulled under the stern the clerk held up the package, and 
called out to the mate, who was leaning over the taffrail, 
that the California had arrived. 

“Hurrah!” said the mate so as to be heard fore and aft; 
“California come, and news from Boston!” 

Instantly there was a confusion on board which no one 


A SICK KANAKA 


153 


could account for who has not been in the same situation. 
All discipline seemed for a moment relaxed. 

The packet was sent down into the cabin, and every one 
waited to hear the result. As nothing came up, the officers 
began to feel that they were acting rather a child’s part, and 
turned the crew to again; and the same strict discipline was 
restored, which prohibits speech between man and man while 
at work on deck; so that when the steward came forward 
with letters for the crew, each man took his letters, carried 
them down to his chest, and came up again immediately; 
and not a letter was read until we had cleared up decks 
for the night. 

An overstrained sense of manliness is the characteristic of 
seafaring men, or, rather, of life on board ship. This often 
gives an appearance of want of feeling, and even of cruelty. 
From this, if a man comes within an ace of breaking his neck, 
and escapes, it is made a joke of; and no notice must be 
taken of a bruise or a cut; and any expression of pity or any 
show of attention would look sisterly, and unbecoming to 
a man who has to face the rough and tumble of such a life. 
From this, too, the sick are neglected at sea, and whatever 
sailors may be ashore, a sick man finds little sympathy or 
attention, forward or aft. A man, too, can have nothing 
peculiar or sacred on board ship; for all the nicer feelings 
they take pride in disregarding, both in themselves and 
others. A thin-skinned man could not live an hour on ship¬ 
board. One would be torn raw unless he had the hide of 
an ox. A moment of natural feeling for home and friends, 
and then the frigid routine of sea-life returned. Jokes were 
made upon those who showed any interest in the expected 
news, and everything near and dear was made common 
stock for rude jokes and unfeeling coarseness, to which no 
exception could be taken by any one. 

Supper, too, must be eaten before the letters were read; 
and when at last they were brought out, they all got round 
any one who had a letter, and expected to have it read aloud 
and have it all in common. If any one went by himself to 


154 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


read it was —“Fair play there; and no skulking!” I took 
mine and went into the sailmaker’s berth, where I could 
read it without interruption. 

Thursday, February 25 .—Set sail for Santa Barbara, 
where we arrived on Sunday, the 28th. We just missed 

seeing the California, for she had sailed three days before 

bound to Monterey, to enter her cargo and procure her 

license, and thence to San Francisco. 

Saturday, March 5.—This was an important day in our 
almanac, for it was on this day that we were first assured 
that our voyage was really drawing to a close. The captain 
gave orders to have the ship ready for getting under way, 
and observed that there was a good breeze to take us down 
to San Pedro. Then we were not going up to windward. 
Thus much was certain, and was soon known fore and aft; 
and when we went in the gig to take him off, he shook 
hands with the people on the beach, and said that he never 
expected to see Santa Barbara again. This settled the mat¬ 
ter, and sent a thrill of pleasure through the heart of every 
one in the boat. We pulled off with a will, saying to our¬ 
selves, “Good-bye, Santa Barbara!—this is the last pull here. 
No more duckings in your breakers, and slipping from your 
confounded southeaster!” The news was soon known 
aboard, and put life into everything when we were getting 
under way; and when all hands tallied on to the cat-fall, 
the chorus of “Time for us to go!” was raised for the first 
time, and joined in with full swing by everybody. 

We left here the young Englishman, George Marsh, who 
left us to take the berth of second mate on board the 
Ayacucho, which was lying in port. I felt really sorry to 
part from him. The situation was offered him only a few 
hours before we sailed; and though he must give up re¬ 
turning to America, yet I have no doubt that the change 
from a dog’s berth to an officer’s was too agreeable to his 
feelings to be declined. Had I known an hour sponer that 
he was going to leave us, I would have made an effort to get 
from him the true history of his early life. He knew that 


A SICK KANAKA 


155 


I had no faith in the story which he told the crew, and 
perhaps in the moment of parting from me, probably for¬ 
ever, he would have given me the true account. 

Two days brought us to San Pedro, and two days more, to 
our no small joy, gave us our last view of that place, which 
was universally called the hell of California, and seemed 
designed in every way for the wear and tear of sailors. Not 
even the last view could bring out one feeling of regret. 
Having kept close in-shore for the land breeze, we passed 
the Mission of San Juan Campestrano the same night, and 
saw distinctly by the bright moonlight the hill which I had 
gone down by a pair of halyards in search of a few paltry 
hides. 

On the next morning we were under the high point of 
San Domingo. The flood-tide took us swiftly in, and we 
came-to opposite our hide-house, and prepared to get every¬ 
thing in trim for a long stay. This was our last port. Here 
we were to discharge everything from the ship, clean her out, 
smoke her, take in our hides, wood, water, &c., and set 
sail for Boston. 

While all this was doing we were to lie still in one place; 
the port was a safe one, and there was no fear of south- 
easters. Accordingly, having picked out a good berth in 
the stream, with a good smooth beach opposite for a land¬ 
ing-place, and within two cables’ length of our hide-house, 
we moored ship. Six weeks or two months of the hardest 
work we had yet seen was before us, and then—“Good-bye 
to California!” 


CHAPTER XXV 


GOOD-BYE, CALIFORNIA 

We turned in early, knowing that we might expect an 
early call; and sure enough, before the stars had quite 
faded, “All hands ahoy!” and we were turned-to, heaving 
out ballast. 

Friday, and a part of Saturday, we were engaged in this 
work, until we had thrown out all but what we wanted 
under our cargo on the passage home; when, as the next day 
was Sunday, and a good day for smoking ship, we cleared 
everything out of the cabin and forecastle, made a slow fire 
of charcoal, birch bark, brimstone, and other matters, on the 
ballast in the bottom of the hold, caulked up the hatches and 
every open seam, and pasted over the cracks of the windows 
and the slides of the scuttles and companionway. Wher¬ 
ever smoke was seen coming out, we caulked and pasted and, 
so far as we could, made the ship smoke tight. The cap¬ 
tain and officers slept under the awning which was spread 
over the quarter-deck; and we stowed ourselves away under 
an old studding-sail, which we drew over one side of the 
forecastle. 

The next day, from fear that something might happen in 
the way of fire, orders were given for no one to leave the 
ship, and, as the decks were lumbered up, we could not 
wash them down, so we had nothing to do all day long. 
Unfortunately, our books were where we could not get at 
them, and we were turning about for something to do, when 
one man recollected a book he had left in the galley. He 
went after it, and it proved to be Woodstock. This was a 
great windfall, and as all could not read it at once, I, being 
the scholar of the company, was appointed reader. I got a 
156 


GOOD-BYE, CALIFORNIA 


157 


knot of six or eight about me, and no one could have had a 
more attentive audience. Some laughed at the “scholars,” 
and went over the other side of the forecastle to work and 
spin their yarns; but I carried the day, and had the cream 
of the crew for my hearers. Many of the reflections, and 
the political parts, I omitted, but all the narrative they 
were delighted with; especially the descriptions of the Puri¬ 
tans, and the sermons and harangues of the Roundhead 
soldiers. Many things which, while I was reading, I had 
a misgiving about, thinking them above their tastes, I was 
surprised to find them enter into completely. 

I read nearly all day, until sundown; when, as soon as 
supper was over, as I had nearly finished, they got a light 
from the galley; and, by skipping what was less interesting, 
I carried them through to the marriage of Everard, and 
the restoration of Charles the Second, before eight o’clock. 

The next morning we took the battens from the hatches, 
and opened the ship. A few stifled rats were found; and 
what bugs, cockroaches, fleas, and other vermin there might 
have been on board must have unrove their life-lines before 
the hatches were opened. The ship being now ready, we 
covered the bottom of the hold over, fore and aft, with dried 
brush, for dunnage, and having levelled everything away, 
we were ready to take in our cargo. All the hides that had 
been collected since the California left the coast, amounting 
to about forty thousand, were cured, dried, and stowed 
away in the house, waiting for our good ship to take them 
to Boston. 

Now began the operation of taking in our cargo, which 
kept us hard at work from the grey of the morning till 
starlight for six weeks, with the exception of Sundays. To 
carry the work on quicker a division of labour was made. 
Two men threw the hides down from the piles in the house, 
two more picked them up and put them on a long horizontal 
pole raised a few feet from the ground, where they were 
beaten by two more with flails, somewhat like those used in 
threshing wheat. When beaten, they were taken from this 


158 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


pole by two more, and placed upon a platform of boards; 
and ten or a dozen men, with their trousers rolled up, were 
constantly going backwards and forwards from the platform 
to the boat, which was kept off where she would just float, 
with the hides upon their heads. 

As we were obliged to carry the hides on our heads 
from fear of their getting wet, we each had a piece of sheep¬ 
skin sewed into the inside of our hats, with the wool next 
our heads, and thus were able to bear the weight, day after 
day, which might otherwise have worn off our hair, and 
borne hard upon our skulls. Upon the whole ours was the 
best berth, for though the water was nipping cold, early in 
the morning and late at night, and being so continually 
wet was rather an exposure, yet we got rid of the constant 
dust and dirt from the beating of the hides, and, being all 
of us young and hearty, did not mind the exposure. The 
older men of the crew, whom it would have been imprudent 
to keep in the water, remained on board with the mate, to 
stow the hides away, as fast as they were brought off by 
the boats. 

Having filled the ship up, in this way, to within four 
feet of her beams, the process of steeving commenced, by 
which a hundred hides are got into a place where one could 
not be forced by hand, and which presses the hides to the 
utmost, sometimes starting the beams of the ship, resembling 
in its effects the jack-screws which are used in stowing cot¬ 
ton. Each morning we went ashore, and beat and brought 
off as many hides as we could steeve in the course of the day, 
and after breakfast went down into the hold, where we 
remained at work until night. The whole length of the 
hold, from stem to stern, was floored off level, and we began 
with raising a pile in the after part, hard against the bulk¬ 
head of the run, and filling it up to the beams, crowding in 
as many as we could by hand and pushing in with oars; when 
a large “book” was made of from twenty-five to fifty hides, 
doubled at the backs, and put into one another, like the 
leaves of a book. An opening was then made between two 


GOOD-BYE, CALIFORNIA 


159 


hides in the pile, and the back of the outside hide of the 
book inserted. Two long, heavy spars called steeves, made 
of the strongest wood, and sharpened off like a wedge at 
one end, were placed with their wedge ends into the inside 
of the hide which was the centre of the book, and to the 
other end of each straps were fitted, into which large tackles 
were hooked, composed each of two huge purchase-blocks. 
When this was arranged, and the ways greased upon which 
the book was to slide, the falls of the tackle were stretched 
forward, and all hands tallied on, until into a pile in which 
one hide more could not be crowded by hand, a hundred or a 
hundred and fifty were often driven in by this complication 
of purchases. 

When the last luff was hooked on, all hands were called 
to the rope—cook, steward, and all—and ranging ourselves 
at the falls, one behind the other, sitting down on the hides, 
with our heads just even with the beams, we set taut upon 
the tackles, and striking up a song, and all lying back at the 
chorus, we drove the large books chock in out of sight. 

The sailor’s songs for capstans and falls are of a peculiar 
kind, having a chorus at the end of each line. The burden 
is usually sung by one alone, and at the chorus all hands 
join in,—and the louder the noise the better. With us the 
chorus seemed almost to raise the decks of the ship, and 
might be heard at a great distance ashore. A song is as 
necessary to sailors as the drum and fife to a soldier. They 
can’t pull in time or pull with a will without it. Many a 
time, when a thing goes heavy, with one fellow yo-ho-ing, 
a lively song, like “Heave, to the girls!” “Nancy, oh,” 
“Jack Crosstree,” &c., has put life and strength into every 
arm. We often found a great difference in the effect of 
the different songs in the driving in the hides. Two or three 
songs would be tried, one after the other, with no effect;— 
not an inch could be got upon the tackles—when a new song 
struck up seemed to hit the humour of the moment, and 
drove the tackles “two blocks” at once. “Heave round, 
hearty!” “Captain gone ashore!” and the like might do for 


160 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


common pulls, but on an emergency, when we wanted a 
heavy, “raise-the-dead” pull, which should start the beams 
of the ship, there was nothing like “Time for us to go!” 
“Round the corner,” or “Hurrah! hurrah! my hearty 
bullies!” 

The work was as hard as it could well be. There was not 
a moment’s cessation from Monday morning till Saturday 
night, when we were generally beaten out, and glad to have 
a full night’s rest, a wash and shift of clothes, and a quiet 
Sunday. During all this time we lived upon almost nothing 
but fresh beef: fried beefsteaks three times a day—morning, 
noon, and night. At morning and night we had a quart of 
tea to each man; and an allowance of about a pound of 
hard bread a day; but our chief article of food was the beef. 
A mess, consisting of six men, had a large wooden kid piled 
up with beefsteaks, cut thick, and fried in fat, with the grease 
poured over them. Round this we sat, attacking it with our 
jack-knives and teeth, and with the appetite of young lions, 
and sent back an empty kid to the galley. Whatever theories 
may be started by sedentary men, certainly no men could 
have gone through more hard work and exposure for sixteen 
months in more perfect health, and without ailings and fail¬ 
ings, than our ship’s crew. 

Friday, April 15. —Arrived, brig Pilgrim, from the wind¬ 
ward. It was a sad sight for her crew to see us getting 
ready to go off the coast, while they, who had been longer 
on the coast than the Alert, were condemned to another 
year’s hard service. I spent an evening on board, and found 
them making the best of the matter, and determined to 
rough it out as they might; but my friend S-was deter¬ 

mined to go home in the ship, if money or interest could 
bring it to pass. After considerable negotiating and work¬ 
ing, he succeeded in persuading my English friend, Tom 
Harris, for thirty dollars, some clothes, and an intimation 
from Captain Faucon that he should want a second mate 
before the voyage was up to take his place in the brig as 
soon as she was ready to go up to windward. 



GOOD-BYE, CALIFORNIA 


161 


The first opportunity I could get to speak to Captain 
Faucon, I asked him to step up to the oven and look at 
Hope, whom he knew well, having had him on board his 
vessel. He went to see him, but said that he had so little 
medicine, and expected to be so long on the coast, that he 
could do nothing for him, but that Captain Arthur would 
take care of him when he came down in the California, 
which would be in a week or more. I had been to see Hope 
the first night after we got into San Diego this last time, and 
had frequently since spent the early part of a night in the 
oven. I hardly expected, when I left him to go to wind¬ 
ward, to find him alive upon my return. I was not a little 
rejoiced, therefore, and relieved to see him decidedly better. 
The medicines were strong, and took hold and gave a check 
to this disorder which was destroying him; and, more than 
that, they had begun the work of exterminating it. I shall 
never forget the gratitude that he expressed. My medicines, 
however, were gone, and no more could be got from the 
ship, so that his life was left to hang upon the arrival of 
the California. 

Sunday , April 24 .—We had now been nearly seven weeks 
in San Diego, and had taken in the greater part of our cargo 
and were looking out every day for the arrival of the Cali¬ 
fornia , which had our agent on board, when, this afternoon, 
some Kanakas, who had been over the hill for rabbits, came 
running down the path, singing out “Sail ho!” with all their 
might. The California was on the other side of the point. 
Instantly all hands were turned up, the bow guns run out 
and loaded, the ensign and broad pennant set, the yards 
squared by lifts and braces, and everything got ready to 
make a good appearance. The instant she showed her nose 
round the point we began our salute. She came in under 
topgallant-sails, clewed up and furled her sails in good 
order, and came-to within good swinging distance of us. 

At night some of us got a boat and went on board, and 
found a large, roomy forecastle, and a crew of a dozen or 
fifteen men and boys sitting around on their chests, smoking 


162 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


and talking, and ready to give a welcome to any of our 
ship’s company. It was just seven months since they left 
Boston, which seemed but yesterday to us. 

Our cargo was now nearly all taken in; and my old 
friend, the Pilgrim , having completed her discharge, un¬ 
moored, to set sail the next morning on another long trip 
to windward. I was just thinking of her hard lot, and 
congratulating myself upon my escape from her, when I 
received a summons into the cabin. I went aft, and there 
found seated round the cabin table my own captain, Cap¬ 
tain Faucon of the Pilgrim, and Mr. R—, the agent. 
Captain T- turned to me, and asked abruptly— 

“Dana, do you want to go home in the ship?” 

“Certainly, sir,” said I; “I expect to go home in the 
ship.” 

“Then,” said he, “you must get some one to go in your 
place on board the Pilgrim.” 

I was so completely “taken aback” by this sudden intima¬ 
tion, that for a moment I could make no rely. As soon as 
I had got my wits about me I put on a bold front, and told 
him plainly that I had a letter in my chest informing me 
that he had been written to by the owners in Boston to 
bring me home in the ship, and moreover, that he had told 
me that I was to go in the ship. 

To have this told him, and to be opposed in such a man¬ 
ner, was more than my lord paramount had been used to. 
He turned fiercely upon me, and tried to look me down 
and face me out of my statement; but finding that that 
wouldn’t do, and that I was entering upon my defence in 
such a way as would show to the other two that he w^as in 
the wrong, he changed his ground, and pointed to the ship¬ 
ping papers of the Pilgrim, from which my name had never 
been erased, and said that there was my name—that I be¬ 
longed to her—that he had an absolute discretionary power; 
and, in short, that I must be on board the Pilgrim by the 
next morning with my chest and hammock, or have some one 
ready to go in my place, and that he would not hear another 



GOOD-BYE, CALIFORNIA 


163 


word from me. I saw the necessity of being determined. I 
repeated what I had said, and insisted on my right to return 
in the ship. 

fiut it would have all availed me nothing, had I been 
“some poor body,” before this absolute, domineering tri¬ 
bunal. But they saw that I would not go unless “vi et 
armis ” and they knew that I had friends and interest enough 
at home to make them suffer for any injustice they might 
do me. It was probably this that turned the matter; for 
the captain changed his tone entirely, and asked me if in 
case any one went in my place I would give him the same 

sum that S-gave Harris to exchange with him. I told 

him that if any one was sent on board the brig I should 
pity him, and be willing to help him to that or almost any 
amount; but would not speak of it as an exchange. 

“Very well,” said he. “Go forward about your business, 
and send English Ben here to me.” 

I went forward with a light heart, but feeling as angry 
and as much contempt as I could well contain between my 
teeth. English Ben was sent aft, and in a few moments 
came forward, looking as though he had received his sen¬ 
tence to be hung. The captain had told him to get his things 
ready to go on board the brig the next morning; and that 
I would give him thirty dollars and a suit of clothes. The 
hands had “knocked off” for dinner, and were standing 
about the forecastle, when Ben came forward and told his 
story. I could see plainly that it made a great excitement, 
and that unless I explained the matter to them the feeling 
would be turned against me. “Oh, yes!” said the crew, 
“the captain has let you off because you are a gentleman’s 
son, and have got friends, and know the owners; and taken 
Ben because he is poor, and has got nobody to say a word 
for him!” 

I knew that this was too true to be answered; but I 
excused myself from any blame, and told them that I had 
a right to go home at all events. This pacified them a little, 



164 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 

but Jack had got a notion that a poor lad was to be imposed 
upon, and did not distinguish very clearly; and though I 
knew that I was in no fault, and in fact had barely escaped 
the grossest injustice, yet I felt that my berth was getting 
to be a disagreeable one. But far stronger than any feeling 
for myself was the pity I felt for the poor lad. He had 
depended upon going home in the ship; and from Boston 
was going immediately to Liverpool to see his friends. 

From this consideration I did my best to get some one to 
go voluntarily. I offered to give an order upon the owners 
in Boston for six months’ wages, and also all the clothes, 
books, and other matters which I should not want upon the 
voyage home. When this offer was published in the ship, 
several, who would not have dreamed of going themselves, 
were busy in talking it up to others, who they thought might 
be tempted to accept it; and, at length, a harum-scarum lad, 
who did not care what country or ship he was in if he had 
clothes enough and money enough, came forward, and 
offered to go and “sling his hammock in the hooker.” I 
signed an order for the sum upon the owners in Boston, 
gave him all the clothes I could spare, and sent him aft to 
the captain to let him know what had been done. The 
skipper accepted the exchange. At the same time he cashed 
the order, which was endorsed to him, and the next morning 
the lad went aboard the brig, apparently in good spirits. 

The same boat brought on board S-, my friend, who, 

like me, was going back to his family and to the society 
which we had been born and brought up in. None on board 
the ship were more glad than ourselves to see the old brig 
standing round the point under full sail. As she passed 
abreast of us we all collected in the waist and gave her three 
loud hearty cheers, waving our hats in the air. Her crew 
sprang into the rigging and chains and answered us with 
three as loud, to which we, after the nautical custom, gave 
one in return. The crew flew aloft to loose the topgallant 
sails and royals; the two captains waved their hands to one 



GOOD-BYE, CALIFORNIA 


165 


another; and in ten minutes we saw the last inch of her 
white canvas as she rounded the point. 

Relieved as I was to see her well off (and I felt like one 
who had just sprung from an iron trap which was closing 
upon him), I had yet a feeling of regret at taking the last 
look at the old craft in which I had spent a year, and the 
first year, of my sailor’s life—which had been my first home 
in the new world into which I had entered—and with which 
I had associated so many things—my first leaving home, 
my first crossing the equator, Cape Horn, Juan Fernandez, 
death at sea, and other things, serious and common. Yet, 
with all this, and the feeling I had for my old shipmates, 
condemned to another term of Californian life, the thought 
that we were done with it, and that one week more would 
see us on our way to Boston, was a cure for everything. 

Friday , May 6 .—Completed the taking in of our cargo, 
and was a memorable day in our calendar. The time when 
we were to take in our last hide we had looked forward to 
for sixteen months as the first bright spot. When the last 
hide was stowed away and the hatches caulked down, the 
tarpaulins battened on to them, the long-boat hoisted in and 
secured, and the decks swept down for the night, the chief 
mate sprang upon the top of the long-boat, called all hands 
into the waist, and giving us a signal by swinging his cap 
over his head, we gave three long, loud cheers, which came 
from the bottom of our hearts, and made the hills and val¬ 
leys ring again. In a moment we heard three, in answer, 
from the California's crew, who had seen us taking in our 
long-boat. 

Soon after the arrival of the California, I spoke to Cap¬ 
tain Arthur about Hope; and as he had known him on the 
voyage before, he immediately went to see him, and gave 
him proper medicines; and under such care he began rapidly 
to recover. The Saturday night before our sailing I spent 
an hour in the oven, and took leave of my Kanaka friends; 
and, really, this was the only thing connected with leaving 
California which was in any way unpleasant. Hope shook 


166 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


me by the hand; said he should soon be well again, and ready 
to work for me when I came upon the coast next voyage 
as officer of the ship; and told me not to forget, when I 
became captain, how to be kind to the sick. 

Sunday , May 8 .—This promised to be our last day in 
California. All our spare spars were taken on board and 
lashed; our water-casks secured; and our live stock, con¬ 
sisting of four bullocks, a dozen sheep, a dozen or more 
pigs, and three or four dozen of poultry, were all stowed 
away in their different quarters—the bullocks in the long¬ 
boat, the sheep in a pen on the fore hatch, and the pigs in a 
sty under the bows of the long-boat, and the poultry in their 
proper coop; and the jolly-boat was full of hay for the sheep 
and bullocks. Our unusually large cargo, together with the 
stores for a five months’ voyage, brought the ship’s channels 
down into the water. In addition to this, she had been 
steeved so thoroughly, and was so bound by the compression 
of her cargo, forced into her by so powerful machinery, 
that she was like a man in a strait-jacket, and would be 
but a dull sailor until she had worked herself loose. 

The California had finished discharging her cargo, and 
was to get under way at the same time with us. Having 
washed down decks and got our breakfast, the two vessels 
lay side by side, in complete readiness for sea, our tall spars 
reflected from the glassy surface of the river, which, since 
sunrise, had been unbroken by a ripple. At length a few 
whiffs came across the water and by eleven o’clock the 
regular northwest wind set seadily in. All eyes were aft 
upon the captain, who was walking the deck, with every 
now and then a look to windward. He made a sign to the 
mate, who came forward, took his station deliberately be¬ 
tween the knight-heads, cast a glance aloft, and called out, 
“All hands lay aloft and loose the sails!” We were half 
in the rigging before the order came. “All ready forward, 
sir!” “All ready the main!” “Cross-jack yards all ready, 
sir!” “Lay down, all hands but one on each yard!” The 


GOOD-BYE, CALIFORNIA 


167 


yardarm and bunt gaskets were cast off; and each sail hung 
by the jigger, with one man standing by the tie to let it go. 

At the same moment that we sprang aloft a dozen hands 
sprang into the rigging of the California , and in an instant 
were all over her yards; and her sails, too, were ready to be 
dropped at the word. In the meantime our bow-gun had 
been loaded and run out, and its discharge was to be the 
signal for dropping the sails. A cloud of smoke came out of 
her bows; the echoes of the gun rattled our farewell among 
the hills of California; and the two ships were covered 
from head to foot with their white canvas. For a few 
minutes all was uproar and apparent confusion: men flying 
about like monkeys in the rigging; ropes and blocks flying; 
orders given and answered; and the confused noises of men 
singing out at the ropes. The head yards were filled away, 
and our ship began to move through the water on her home¬ 
ward-bound course. 

The California had got under way at the same moment; 
and we sailed down the narrow bay abreast, and were just 
off the mouth, and finding ourselves gradually shooting 
ahead of her, were on the point of giving her three parting 
cheers, when suddenly we found ourselves stopped short, 
and the California ranging fast ahead of us. A bar stretches 
across the mouth of the harbour, with water enough to float 
common vessels; but being low in the water, and having kept 
well to leeward, as we were bound to the southward, we 
had stuck fast, while the California , being light, had floated 
over. 

We kept all sail on, in the hope of forcing over, but failing 
in this we hove aback, and lay waiting for the tide, which 
was on the flood, to take us back into the channel. This 
was somewhat of a damper to us, and the captain looked not 
a little mortified and vexed. In a few minutes the force of 
the wind and the rising of the tide backed us into the 
stream, and we were on our way to our old anchoring-place, 
the tide setting swiftly up, and the ship barely manageable 


168 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


in the light breeze. We came-to in our old berth, opposite 
the hide-house, whose inmates were not a little surprised to 
see us return. 

In about half an hour, which was near high-water, the 
order was given to man the windlass, and again the anchor 
was catted. The California had come back on finding that 
we had returned, and was hove-to, waiting for us, off the 
point. This time we passed the bar safely, and were soon 
up with the California, who filled away, and kept us com¬ 
pany. She seemed desirous of a trial of speed, and our cap¬ 
tain accepted the challenge, although we were bound so taut 
with our cargo that we were no more fit for a race than a 
man in fetters. Being clear of the point, the breeze became 
stiff, and the royal masts bent under our sails; but we would 
not take them in until we saw three boys spring aloft into 
the rigging of the California, when they were all furled at 
once, but with orders to stay aloft at the topgallant mast¬ 
heads and loose them again at the word. The California 
was to windward of us, and had every advantage, yet, while 
the breeze was stiff, we held our own. As soon as it began 
to slacken she ranged a little ahead, and it was soon evident 
that she was walking away from us. Our captain then 
hailed and said that he should keep off to his course, adding, 
“She isn’t the Alert now. If I had her in your trim she 
would have been out of sight by this time.” This was good- 
naturedly answered from the California, and she braced 
sharp up, and stood close upon the wind up the coast; while 
we squared our yards and stood before the wind to the 
south-southwest. 

As soon as we parted company with the California all 
hands were sent aloft to set the studding-sails, that we 
might not lose a breath of the fair wind. We could now 
see how much she was cramped and deadened by her cargo, 
for, with a good breeze on her quarter, and every stitch of 
canvas spread, we could not get more than six knots out of 
her. We had hardly patience with her, but the older sailors 
said, “Stand by; you’ll see her work herself loose in a week 


GOOD-BYE, CALIFORNIA 169 

or two, and then she’ll walk up to Cape Horn like a race¬ 
horse.” 

When all sail had been set and the decks cleared up, the 
California was a speck in the horizon, and the coast lay like 
a low cloud along the northeast. At sunset they were both 
out of sight and we were once more upon the ocean, where 
sky and water meet. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


HOMEWARD BOUND 

At eight o’clock: all hands were called aft and the watches 
set for the voyage. Some changes were made, but I was 
glad to find myself still in the larboard watch. Our crew 
was somewhat diminished, and we were short-handed for 
a voyage round Cape Horn in the dead of winter. Besides 

S- and myself, there were only five in the forecastle, 

who, together with four boys in the steerage, the sailmaker, 
carpenter, &c., composed the whole crew. In addition to 
this, we were only three or four days out, when the sail- 
maker, who was the oldest and best seaman on board, was 
taken with the palsy, and was useless for the rest of the 
voyage. By the loss of the sailmaker our watch was reduced 
to five, of whom two were boys, who never steered but in 
fine weather, so that the other two and myself had to stand 
at the wheel four hours apiece out of every twenty-four; 
and the other watch had only four helmsmen. “Never 
mind; we’re homeward bound!” was the answer to every¬ 
thing; and we should not have minded this were it not 
for the thought that we should be off Cape Horn in the 
very dead of winter. 

During our watches below we overhauled our clothes, and 
made and mended everything for bad weather. Thus we 
took advantage of the warm sun and fine weather of the 
Pacific to prepare for its other face. In the forenoon 
watches below our forecastle looked like the workshop of 
what a sailor is—a Jack of all trades. Even the cobbler’s 
art was not out of place. 

There was one difficulty, however, which nothing that 
we could do would remedy, and that was the leaking of the 
170 



HOMEWARD BOUND 


171 


forecastle, which made it very uncomfortable in bad weather, 
and rendered half the berths tenantless. The tightest ships, 
on a long voyage, from the constant strain which is upon the 
bowsprit, will leak more or less round the heel of the bow¬ 
sprit and the bitts, which come down into the forecastle; 
but, in addition to this, we had an unaccountable leak on 
the starboard bow, near the cat-head, which drove us from 
the forward berths on that side, and indeed, when she was 
on the starboard tack, from all the forward berths. One 
of the after berths, too, leaked in very bad weather; so that 
in a ship which was in other respects as tight as a bottle, 
and brought her cargo to Boston perfectly dry, we had, 
after every effort made to prevent it in the way of caulking 
and leading, a forecastle with only three dry berths for 
seven of us. However, as there is never but one watch 
below at a time, by “turning in and out” we did pretty well; 
and there being in our watch but three of us who lived 
forward, we generally had a dry berth apiece in bad weather. 

All this, however, was but anticipation. We were still 
in fine weather in the North Pacific, running down the 
northeast trades, which we took on the second day after 
leaving San Diego. 

Sunday, May 15 .—One week out, we were in lat. 14° 56' 
n., long. 116° 14' w., having gone, by reckoning, over 
thirteen hundred miles in seven days. In fact, ever since 
leaving San Diego, we had had a fair wind, and as much as 
we wanted of it. Every wave that we threw aside brought 
us nearer home, and every day’s observation at noon showed 
a progress which, if it continued, would in less than five 
months take us into Boston Bay. This is the pleasure of 
life at sea—fine weather, day after day, without interrup¬ 
tion, fair wind and plenty of it, and homeward bound. 
Every one was in good humour, things went right, and all 
was done with a will. 

Every night, after the kids and pots were put away, and 
we had lighted our pipes and cigars at the galley, and 
gathered about the windlass, the first question was— 


172 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 

“Well, Tom, what was the latitude to-day?” 

“Why, fourteen north, and she has been going seven 
knots ever since.” 

“Well, this will bring us up to the line in five days?” 

“Yes, but these trades won’t last twenty-four hours 
longer,” says an old salt; “I know that by the look of 
the clouds.” 

Then came all manner of calculations and conjectures as 
to the continuance of the wind, the weather under the line, 
the southeast trades, &c., and rough guesses as to the time 
the ship would be up with the Horn. 

Rumours also of what had been said in the cabins, as 
usual, found their way forward. The steward had heard 
the captain say something about the Straits of Magellan; 
and the man at the wheel fancied he had heard him tell 
the “passenger” that, if he found the wind ahead and the 
weather very bad off the Cape, he should stick her off for 
New Holland, and come home round the Cape of Good 
Hope. 

This passenger was no one else than a gentleman whom I 
had known in my better days, and the last person I should 
have expected to have seen on the coast of California— 

Professor N-, of Cambridge. I had left him quietly 

seated in the chair of botany and ornithology in Harvard 
University; and the next I saw of him was strolling about 
San Diego beach, in a sailor’s pea-jacket, with a wide straw 
hat, and barefooted, picking up stones and shells. He had 
travelled overland to the Northwest Coast, and come down 
in a small vessel to Monterey. There he learned that there 
was a ship at the leeward, about to sail for Boston; and, 
taking passage in the Pilgrim, which was then at Monterey, 
he came slowly down, visiting the immediate ports, and 
examining the trees, plants, earths, birds, &c., and joined 
us at San Diego shortly before we sailed. I was often 
amused to see the sailors puzzled to know what to make of 
him, and to hear their conjectures about him and his busi¬ 
ness. They were as much puzzled as our old sailmaker was 



HOMEWARD BOUND 


173 


with the captain’s instruments in the cabin. He said there 
were three:—the chro- nometer, the chre- nometer, and the 
the- nometer. (Chronometer, barometer, and thermometer.) 
The Pilgrim's crew christened Mr. N. “Old Curious,” from 
his zeal for curiosities; and some of them said that he was 
crazy, and that his friends let him go about and amuse 
himself in this way. Why else a rich man should leave a 
Christian country, and come to such a place as California, 
to pick up shells and stones, they could not understand. 

Wednesday, May 18 .—Latitude 9° 54' N., long. 113° 7' 
w. The northeast trades had now left us, and we had the 
usual variable winds which prevail near the line, together 
with some rain. 

Sunday , May 22 .—Latitude 5° 14' N., long. 166° 45' w. 
We were now a fortnight out, and within five degrees of 
the line, to which two days of good breeze would take us; 
but we had for the most part w^hat the sailors call “an 
Irishman’s hurricane,—right up and down.” This day it 
rained nearly all day, and being Sunday, and nothing to do, 
we stopped up the scuppers and filled the deck with rain¬ 
water, and bringing all on deck, had a grand wash fore and 
aft. When this was through we stripped to our drawers, 
and taking pieces of soap, with strips of canvas for towels, 
we turned to, and soaped, washed, and scrubbed one another 
down, to get off, as we said, the Californian dust; for the 
common wash in salt water, which is all that Jack can get, 
being on an allowance of fresh, had little efficacy, and was 
more for taste than utility. The next day, the sun rising, 
the ship was covered fore and aft with clothes of all sorts, 
hanging out to dry. 

As we approached the line the wind became more easterly 
and the weather clearer, and in twenty days from San 
Diego,— 

Saturday , May 28 ,—At about three P.M., with a fine 
breeze from the east-southeast, we crossed the equator. In 
twenty-four hours after crossing the line, which was very 
unusual, we took the regular southeast trades. With us 


174 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


they blew directly from the east-southeast, which was fortu¬ 
nate for us, for our course was south-by-west, and we could 
go thus one point free. For twelve days this breeze blew 
steadily, not varying a point, and just so fresh that we could 
carry our royals; and, during the whole time, we hardly 
started a brace. Such progress did we make, that at the 
end of seven days from the time we took the breeze, on 
Sunday, June 5.—We were in lat. 19° 29' s., and long. 
118° 10' w., having made twelve hundred miles in seven 
days. Our good ship had increased her rate of sailing more 
than one-third since leaving San Diego. The crew ceased 
complaining of her, and the officers hove the log every two 
hours with evident satisfaction. This was glorious sailing. 
Already we had sunk the north star and the Great Bear in 
the northern horizon, and all hands looked out sharp to the 
southward for the Magellan Clouds, which, each succeeding 
night, we expected to make. “The next time we see the 
north star,” said one, “we shall be standing to the north¬ 
ward, the other side of the Horn.” 

It was this weather and sailing that brought to my mind 
a little incident that occurred on board the Pilgrim while 
we were in the same latitude. We were going along at a 
great rate, dead before the wind, with studding-sails out 
on both sides, alow and aloft, on a dark night, just after 
midnight, and everything as still as the grave, except the 
washing of the water by the vessel’s side; for, being before 
the wind, with a smooth sea, the little brig covered with 
canvas was doing great business with very little noise. The 
other watch was below, and all our watch except myself 
and the man at the wheel were asleep under the lee of the 
boat. 

The second mate, who came out before the mast, and was 
always very thick with me, had been holding a yarn with 
me, and just gone aft to his place on the quarter-deck, and 
I had resumed my usual walk to and from the windlass- 
end, when suddenly we heard a loud scream coming from 
ahead, apparently directly from under the bows. The dark- 


HOMEWARD BOUND 


175 


ness and complete stillness of the night, and the solitude 
of the ocean, gave to the sound a dreadful and almost super¬ 
natural effect. I stood perfectly still, and my heart beat 
quick. The sound woke up the rest of the watch, who 
stood looking at one another fearfully. “What in thunder 
is that?” said the second mate, coming slowly forward. The 
first thought I had was that it might be a boat, with the 
crew of some wrecked vessel, or perhaps the boat of some 
whale-ship out over-night, and we had run them down in 
the darkness. Another scream, but less loud than the first. 
This started us, and we ran forward and looked over the 
bows, and over the sides to leeward, but nothing was to be 
seen or heard. What was to be done? Call the captain, 
and heave the ship aback? 

Just at this moment, in crossing the forecastle one of the 
men saw a light below, and looking down into the scuttle, 
saw the watch all out of their berths, and afoul of one poor 
fellow, dragging him out of his berth, and shaking him to 
wake him out of a nightmare. They had been waked out 
of their sleep, and as much alarmed at the scream as we 
were, and were hesitating whether to come on deck, when 
the second sound, coming directly from one of the berths, 
revealed the cause of the alarm. The fellow got a good 
shaking for the trouble he had given. We made a joke 
of the matter, and we could well laugh, for our minds were 
not a little relieved by its ridiculous termination. 

We were now close upon the southern tropical line, and, 
with so fine a breeze, were daily leaving the sun behind us, 
and drawing nearer to Cape Horn, for which it behooved 
us to make every preparation. Our rigging was all exam¬ 
ined and overhauled and mended, or replaced with new 
where it was necessary; new and strong bobstays fitted in 
the place of the chain ones, which were worn out, and other 
preparations made, in good season, that the ropes might 
have time to stretch and become limber before we got into 
cold weather. 

Sunday , June 12 .—Latitude 26° 04's., long. 116° 31' w. 


176 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


We had now lost the regular trades, and had the winds 
variable, principally from the westward, and kept on, in a 
southerly course, sailing very nearly upon a meridian, and 
at the end of the week— 

Sunday, June 19 ,—Were in lat. 34° 15' S., and long. 
116° 38' w. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


DANGEROUS WEATHER 

There began now to be a decided change in the appear¬ 
ance of things. The days became shorter and shorter, the 
sun running lower in its course each day, and giving less 
and less heat, and the nights so cold as to prevent our 
sleeping on deck; the Magellan Clouds in sight of a clear 
night; the skies looking cold and angry; and at times a 
long, heavy, ugly sea, setting in from the southward, told 
us what we were coming to. Toward the middle of the 
week, the wind hauled to the southward, which made the 
ship meet, nearly head-on, the heavy swell which rolled 
from that direction; and there was something not at all 
encouraging in the manner in which she met it. Being so 
deep and heavy, she wanted the buoyancy which should have 
carried her over the seas, and she dropped heavily into them, 
the water washing over the decks; and every now and then, 
when an unusually large sea met her fairly upon the bows, 
she struck it with a sound as dead and heavy as that with 
which a sledge-hammer falls upon the pile, and took the 
whole of it in upon the forecastle, and, rising, carried it aft 
in the scuppers, washing the rigging off the pins, and carry¬ 
ing along with it everything which was loose on deck. 

She had been acting in this way all of our forenoon watch 
below, as we could tell by the washing of the water over 
our heads. At eight bells the watch was called, and we 
came on deck, one hand going aft to take the wheel, and 
another going to the galley to get the grub for dinner. I 
stood on the forecastle, looking at the seas, which were 
rolling high, as far as the eye could reach, their tops white 
with foam, and the body of them of a deep indigo blue, 

177 


178 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


reflecting the bright rays of the sun. Our ship rose slowly 
over a few of the largest of them, until one immense fellow 
came rolling on, threatening to cover her. I sprang upon 
the knight-heads, and seizing hold of the forestay with my 
hands, drew myself up upon it. My feet were just off the 
stanchion, when she struck fairly- into the middle of the 
sea, and it washed her fore and aft, burying her in the 
water. 

As soon as she rose out of it I looked aft, and everything 
forward of the mainmast, except the long-boat, which was 
griped and double-lashed down to the ring-bolts, was swept 
off clear. The galley, the pigsty, the hencoop, and a large 
sheep-pen which had been built upon the fore-hatch, were 
all gone, in the twinkling of an eye, leaving the deck as 
clean as a chin new reaped, and not a stick left to show 
where they had stood. In the scuppers lay the galley, 
bottom up, and a few boards floating about—the wreck of 
the sheep-pen—and half a dozen miserable sheep floating 
among them, wet through, and not a little frightened at 
the sudden change that had come upon them. As soon as 
the sea had washed by, all hands sprung up out of the fore¬ 
castle to see what had become of the ship; and in a few 
moments the cook and old Bill crawled out from under 
the galley, where they had been lying in the water, nearly 
smothered, with the galley over them. 

When the water ran off, we picked the sheep up, and put 
them in the long-boat, got the galley back in its place, and 
set things a little to rights; but, had not our ship had 
uncommonly high, bulwarks and rail, everything must have 
been washed overboard. “This will never do!” was what 
some said, and every one felt. Here we were, not yet within 
a thousand miles of the latitude of Cape Horn, and our 
decks swept by a sea not one-half so high as we must expect 
to find there. At two bells all hands were called and set 
to work, getting lashings upon everything on deck; and the 
captain talked of sending down the long topgallant-mast; 


% 



It washed her fore and aft, burying her in the water 









180 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


but as the sea went down toward night, and the wind hauled 
abeam, we left them standing, and set the studding-sails. 

Through the rest of the week we continued on with a 
fair wind, gradually, as we got more to the southward, 
keeping a more easterly course, and bringing the wind on 
our larboard quarter, until— 

Sunday, June 26, —When, having a fine, clear day, the 
captain got a lunar observation as well as his meridian alti¬ 
tude, which made us in lat. 47° 50' s., long. 113° 49' w.; 
Cape Horn bearing, according to my calculation, e.s.e. V2 e., 
and distant eighteen hundred miles. 

Monday, June 27’.—During the first part of this day the 
wind continued fair, and, as we were going before it, it 
did not feel very cold, so that we kept at work on deck in 
our common clothes and round jackets. Our watch had 
an afternoon watch below, for the first time since leaving 
San Diego, and having inquired of the third mate what the 
latitude was at noon, and made our usual guesses as to the 
time she would need to be up with the Horn, we turned 
in for a nap. We were sleeping away “at the rate of knots,” 
when three knocks on the scuttle, and “All hands ahoy!” 
started us from our berths. What could be the matter? 
It did not appear to be blowing hard, and looking up 
through the scuttle, we could see that it was a clear day 
overhead; yet the watch were taking in sail. We thought 
there must be a sail in sight, and that we were about to 
heave-to and speak her; and were just congratulating our¬ 
selves upon it, when we heard the mate’s voice on deck, 
singing out to the men who were taking in the studding- 
sails, and asking where his watch were. We did not wait 
for a second call, but tumbled up the ladder; and there 
on the starboard bow, was a bank of mist, covering sea and 
sky, and driving directly for us. I had seen the same before, 
in my passage round in the Pilgrim, and knew what it 
meant, and that there was no time to be lost. We had 
nothing on but thin clothes, yet there was not a moment 
to spare, and at it we went. 


DANGEROUS WEATHER 


181 


We all stood waiting for its coming, when the first blast 
showed us that it was not to be trifled with. Rain, sleet, 
snow, and wind, enough to take our breath from us, and 
make the toughest turn his back to windward! The ship 
lay nearly over upon her beam-ends; the spars and rigging 
snapped and cracked, and her topgallant-masts bent like 
whipsticks. “Clew up the fore and main topgallant-sails!” 
shouted the captain, and all hands sprang to the clew-lines. 
The decks were standing nearly at an angle of forty-five 
degrees, and the ship going like a mad steed through the 
water, the whole forward part of her in a smother of foam. 

The violence of the wind, and the hail and sleet, driving 
nearly horizontally across the ocean, seemed actually to pin 
us down to the rigging. It was hard work making head 
against them. One after another we got out upon the yards. 
And here we had work to do; for our new sails, which 
had hardly been bent long enough to get the starch out of 
them, were as stiff as boards, and the new earings and reef- 
points, stiffened with the sleet, knotted like pieces of iron- 
wire. Having only our round jackets and straw hats on, 
we were soon wet through, and it was every moment grow¬ 
ing colder. Our hands were soon stiffened and numbed, 
which, added to the stiffness of everything else, kept us a 
good while on the yard. 

Two of us went aloft, up the fore-rigging, and two mofe 
up the main, upon the topgallant-yards. When we got 
upon the yard, my hands were so numb that I could not 
have cast off the knot of the gasket to have saved my life. 
We both lay over the yard for a few seconds, beating our 
hands upon the sail, until we started the blood into our 
fingers’ ends, and at the next moment our hands were in 
a burning heat. We fisted the sail together, and after six 
or eight minutes of hard hauling and pulling and beating 
down the sail, which was as stiff as sheet iron, we managed 
to get it furled. 

I had been on the look-out for a moment to jump below 
and clap on a thick jacket and southwester; but when we 


182 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


got on deck we found that eight bells had been struck and 
the other watch gone below, so that there were two hours 
of dog watch for us and plenty of work to do. The decks 
were covered with snow, and there was a constant driving 
of sleet. In fact, Cape Horn had set in with good earnest. 
In the midst of all this, and before it became dark, we had 
all the studding-sails to make up and stow away, and then 
to lay aloft and rig in all the booms, fore and aft, and coil 
away the tacks, sheets, and halyards. It was after dark 
when we got through, and we were not a little pleased to 
hear four bells struck, which sent us below two hours, and 
gave us each a pot of hot tea with our cold beef and bread, 
and, what was better yet, a suit of thick, dry clothing fitted 
for the weather in place of our thin clothes, which were wet 
through and now frozen stiff. 

This sudden turn, for which we were so little prepared, 
was as unacceptable to me as to any of the rest; for I had 
been troubled for several days with a slight toothache, and 
this cold weather, and wetting and freezing, were not the 
best things in the world for it. I soon found that it was 
getting strong hold and running over all parts of my face; 
and before the watch was out I went aft to the mate, who 
had charge of the medicine-chest, to get something for it. 
But the chest showed like the end of a long voyage, for 
there was nothing that would answer but a few drops of 
laudanum, which must be saved for an emergency; so I 
had only to bear the pain as well as I could. 

When we went on deck at eight bells, it had stopped 
snowing, and there were a few stars out, but the clouds 
were still black and it was blowing a steady gale. The next 
four hours below were but little relief to me, for I lay 
awake in my berth the whole time, from the pain in my 
face, and heard every bell strike, and at four o’clock turned 
out with the watch, feeling little spirit for the hard duties 
of the day. 

Friday, July 1 .—We were now nearly up to the latitude 
of Cape Horn, and having over forty degrees of easting to 


DANGEROUS WEATHER 


183 


make, we squared away the yards before a strong westerly 
gale, shook a reef out of the foretopsail, and stood on our 
way east-by-south, with the prospect of being up with the 
Cape in a week or ten days. As for myself, I had had no 
sleep for forty-eight hours; and the want of rest, together 
with constant wet and cold, had increased the swelling so 
that my face was nearly as large as two, and I found it 
impossible to get my mouth open wide enough to eat. In 
this state, the steward applied to the captain for some rice 
to boil for me; but he only got a— “Tell him to eat salt 
junk and hard bread like the rest of them!” For this, of 
course, I was much obliged to him; and in truth it was 
just what I expected. However, I did not starve; for the 
mate, who was a man as well as a sailor, and had always 
been a good friend to me, smuggled a pan of rice into the 
galley, and told the cook to boil it for me, and not let the 
“old man” see it. 

Saturday, July 2 .—This day the sun rose fair, but it ran 
too low in the heavens to give any heat, or thaw out our 
sails and rigging; yet the sight of it was pleasant, and we 
had a steady “reef-topsail breeze” from the westward. The 
atmosphere, which had previously been clear and cold, for 
the last few hours grew damp, and had a disagreeable wet 
chilliness in it; and the man who came from the wheel said 
he heard the captain tell “the passenger” that the thermome¬ 
ter had fallen several degrees since morning, which he could 
not account for in any other way than by supposing that 
there must be ice near us, though such a thing had never 
been heard of in this latitude at this season of the year. 

At twelve o’clock we went below, and had just got 
through dinner, when the cook put his head down the 
scuttle, and told us to come on deck and see the finest sight 
that we had ever seen. “Where away, cook?” asked the 
first man who was up. “On the larboard bow.” And there 
lay, floating in the ocean, several miles off, an immense 
irregular mass, its top and points covered with snow, and 
its centre of a deep indigo colour. This was an iceberg, 


184 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


and of the largest size. As far as the eye could reach the 
sea in every direction was of a deep blue colour, the waves 
running high and fresh, and sparkling in the light; and in 
the midst lay this immense mountain-island, its cavities and 
valleys thrown into deep shade, and its points and pinnacles 
glittering in the sun. But no description can give any idea 
of the strangeness, splendour, and, really, the sublimity of 
the sight. Its great size—for it must have been from two 
to three miles in circumference, and several hundred feet 
in height; its slow motion, as its base rose and sank in the 
water, and its high points nodded against the clouds; the 
dashing of the waves upon it, which, breaking high with 
foam, lined its base with a white crust; and the thundering 
sound of the cracking of the mass, and the breaking and 
tumbling down of huge pieces; together with its nearness 
and approach, which added a slight element of fear—all 
combined to give it the character of true sublimity. The 
main body of the mass was, as I have said, of an indigo 
colour, its base crusted with frozen foam; and as it grew 
thin and transparent towards the edges and top, its colour 
shaded off from a deep blue to the whiteness of snow. 
Toward morning a strong breeze sprang up, and we filled 
away and left it astern, and at daylight it was out of sight. 
The next day, which was 

Sunday, July 3 ,—The breeze continued strong, the air 
exceedingly chilly, and the thermometer low. In the course 
of the day we saw several icebergs of different sizes, but 
none so near as the one which we saw the day before. 
Toward night the wind hauled to the southward, and 
headed us off our course a little, and blew a tremendous 
gale; but this we did not mind, as there was no rain nor 
snow, and we were already under close sail. 

Monday, July 4 .—This was “Independence Day” in 
Boston. This, to be sure, was no place to keep the 4th 
of July. To keep ourselves warm and the ship out of ice 
was as much as we could do. Yet no one forgot the day; 
and many were the wishes, and conjectures, and compari- 


DANGEROUS WEATHER 


185 


sons, both serious and ludicrous, which were made among 
all hands. The sun shone bright as long as it was up, only 
that a scud of black clouds was ever and anon driving across 
it. At noon we were in lat. 54° 57's., and long. 85° 5' w., 
having made a good deal of easting, but having lost in our 
latitude by the heading of the wind. 

Between daylight and dark we saw thirty-four ice-islands 
of various sizes, some no bigger than the hull of our vessel, 
and others apparently nearly as large as the one that we 
first saw; though as we went on the islands became smaller 
and more numerous; and at sundown of this day a man 
at the masthead saw large fields of floating ice at the south¬ 
east. A constant lookout was necessary; for any of these 
pieces coming with the heave of the sea was large enough 
to have knocked a hole in the ship, and that would have 
been the end of us; for no boat could have lived in such a 
sea. To make our condition still worse, the wind came 
out due east just after sundown, and it blew a gale dead 
ahead, with hail and sleet and a thick fog, so that we could 
not see half the length of the ship. Our chief reliance, the 
prevailing westerly gales, was thus cut off; and here we 
were, nearly seven hundred miles to the westward of the 
Cape, with a gale dead from the eastward, and the weather 
so thick that we could not see the ice with which we were 
surrounded until it was directly under our bows. At four 
p.m. all hands were called and sent aloft, in a violent squall 
of hail and rain, to take in sail. Our ship was now all cased 
with ice, and the running rigging so stiff that we could 
hardly bend it so as to belay it, or, still worse, make a 
knot with it, and the sails nearly as stiff as sheet-iron. 

A regular lookout was then set, and kept by each watch 
in turn, until the morning. The captain was on deck nearly 
the whole night, and kept the cook in the galley, with a 
roaring fire, to make coffee for him, which he took every 
few hours, and once or twice gave a little to his officers; 
but not a drop of anything was there for the crew. The 
captain, who sleeps all the daytime, and comes and goes 


186 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


at night as he chooses, can have his hot coffee at the galley; 
while Jack, who has to stand through everything and work 
in wet and cold, can have nothing to wet his lips or warm 
his stomach. This was a “temperance ship”; and, like too 
many such ships, the temperance was all in the forecastle. 

I never knew a sailor in my life who would not prefer 
a pot of hot coffee or chocolate in a cold night to all the 
rum afloat. They all say that rum only warms them for 
a time; yet if they can get nothing better, they will miss 
what they have lost. On my passage round Cape Horn 
before, the vessel I was in was not under temperance arti¬ 
cles, and grog was served out every middle and morning 
watch, and after every reefing of topsails; and though I 
had never drunk rum before, and never intend to again, 
I took my allowance then at the capstan, as the rest did, 
merely for the momentary warmth it gave the system, and 
the change in our feelings and aspect of our duties on the 
watch. At the same time, as I have stated, there was not 
a man on board who would not have pitched the rum to 
the dogs for a pot of coffee or chocolate, or even for our 
common beverage—“water bewitched and tea begrudged” 
as it was. 

Eight hours of the night our watch was on deck; and 
during the whole of that time we kept a bright lookout. 
The chief mate was everywhere, and commanded the ship 
when the captain was below. 

In the meantime the wet and cold had brought my face 
into such a state that I could neither eat nor sleep; and 
though I stood it out all night, yet when it became light 
I was in such a state that all hands told me I must go 
below, and lie by for a day or two, or I should be laid up 
for a long time, and perhaps have the lockjaw. When the 
watch was changed I went into the steerage, and took off 
my hat and comforter, and showed my face to the mate, 
who told me to go below at once, and stay in my berth 
until the swelling went down, and gave the cook orders to 


DANGEROUS WEATHER 


187 


make a poultice for me, and said he would speak to the 
captain. 

I went below and turned in, covering myself over with 
blankets and jackets, and lay in my berth nearly twenty- 
four hours, half-asleep and half-awake, stupid from the dull 
pain. At the end of twenty-four hours the pain went down, 
and I had a long sleep, which brought me back to my proper 
state; yet my face was so swollen and tender that I was 
obliged to keep to my berth for two or three days longer. 
At the end of the third day, the ice was very thick; a com¬ 
plete fog-bank covered the ship. It blew a tremendous gale 
from the eastward, with sleet and snow, and there was 
every promise of a dangerous and fatiguing night. At dark, 
the captain called all hands aft, and told them that not a 
man was to leave the deck that night; that the ship was 
in the greatest danger; any cake of ice might knock a hole 
in her, or she might run on an island and go to pieces. 
The lookouts were then set, and every man was put in his 
station. When I heard what was the state of things, I 
began to put on my clothes to stand it out with the rest 
of them, when the mate came below, and looking at my 
face ordered me back to my berth, saying that if we went 
down we should all go down together, but if I went on 
deck I might lay myself up for life. 

In obedience to the mate’s orders, I went back to my 
berth; but a more miserable night I never wish to spend. 
Several times in the course of the night I got up, determined 
to go on deck; but the silence, which showed that there was 
nothing doing, and the knowledge that I might make myself 
seriously ill for nothing, kept me back. It was a dreadful 
night for those on deck. A watch of eighteen hours, with 
wet and cold, and constant anxiety, nearly wore them out; 
and when they came below at nine o’clock for breakfast, 
they almost dropped asleep on their chests; and some of 
them were so stiff that they could with difficulty sit down. 
By a constant lookout, and a quick shifting of the helm, 
as the islands and pieces came in sight, the ship went clear 


188 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


of everything but a few small pieces, though daylight showed 
the ocean covered for miles. At daybreak it fell a dead 
calm, and with the sun the fog cleared a little, and a breeze 
sprang up from the westward, which soon grew into a gale. 

For two days more the wind blew from the southward 
and eastward; or in the short intervals when it was fair, 
the ice was too thick to run; yet the weather was not so 
dreadfully bad, and the crew had watch and watch. I still 
remained in my berth, fast recovering, yet still not well 
enough to go safely on deck. And I should have been 
perfectly useless; for, from having eaten nothing for nearly 
a week except a little rice which I forced into my mouth 
the last day or two, I was as weak as an infant. Fortu¬ 
nately, I needed no help from any one, and no medicine; 
and if I had needed help, I don’t know where I should have 
found it. 

Accordingly, as soon as I could possibly go back to my 
duty, I put on my thick clothes and boots, and southwester, 
and made my appearance on deck. The ship was cased in 
ice—decks, sides, masts, yards, and rigging. Two close- 
reefed topsails were all the sail she had on, and every sail 
and rope was frozen so stiff in its place that it seemed as 
though it would be impossible to start anything. The sun 
had come up brightly; the snow was swept off the decks, 
and ashes thrown upon them, so that we could walk. The 
wind was still ahead, and the whole ocean, to the eastward, 
covered with islands ^nd field-ice. At four bells the order 
was given to square away the yards; and the man who came 
from the helm said that the captain had kept her off to 
n.n.e. What could this mean? Soon it leaked out, and we 
found that we were running for the Straits of Magellan. 
Having made a fair wind of it, we were going off at a good 
rate, and leaving the thickest of the ice behind us. This, 
at least, was something. 

Sunday t July 10 .—Latitude 54° 10', long. 79° 07'. This 
was our position at noon. The sun was out bright; the 
ice was all left behind, and things had quite a cheering 


DANGEROUS WEATHER 


189 


appearance. After dinner, all hands were turned-to to get 
the anchors over the bows. Our spirits returned with hav¬ 
ing something to do; and when the tackle was manned to 
bowse the anchor home, notwithstanding the desolation of 
the scene, we struck up “Cheerily ho!” in full chorus. This 
pleased the mate, who rubbed his hands and cried out— 
“That’s right, my boys! That sounds like the old crew!” 

This preparation of the cable and anchors was for the 
passage of the straits; for, being very crooked, and with a 
variety of currents, it is necessary to come frequently to 
anchor. This was not by any means a pleasant prospect, 
for of all the work that a sailor is called upon to do in 
cold weather, there is none so bad as working the ground- 
tackle. The heavy chain cables to be hauled and pulled 
about decks with bare hands; wet hawsers, slip-ropes, and 
buoy-ropes to be hauled aboard, dripping in water; clearing 
hawse under the bows; getting under way and coming-to, 
at all hours of the night and day; and a constant lookout 
for rocks and sands and turns of tides;—these are some of 
the disagreeables of such a navigation to a common sailor. 
The next day, when we must have been near the Cape of 
Pillars, which is the southwest point of the mouth of the 
straits, a gale set in from the eastward, with a heavy fog, 
so that we could not see half of the ship’s length ahead. 
This, of course, put an end to the project for the present; 
for a thick fog, and a gale blowing dead ahead, are not 
the most favourable circumstances for the passage of difficult 
and dangerous straits; so we braced up on the larboard 
tack, put the ship’s head due south, and stuck her off for 
Cape Horn again. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


KILLING TIME AT CAPE HORN 

In our first attempt to double the Cape, when we came 
up to the latitude of it, we were nearly seventeen hundred 
miles to the westward; but, in running for the Straits of 
Magellan, we stood so far to the eastward, that we made 
our second attempt at a distance of not more than four or 
five hundred miles; and we had great hopes, by this means, 
to run clear of the ice; thinking that the easterly gales, 
which had prevailed for a long time, would have driven it 
to the westward. With the wind about two points free, 
we made great way toward the southward; and, almost 
every watch, when we came on deck, the air seemed to grow 
colder, and the sea to run higher. Still we saw no ice, 
and had great hopes of going clear of it altogether, when, 
one afternoon, about three o’clock, “All hands!” was called 
in a loud and fearful voice. We sprang out of our berths 
and hurried upon deck. The loud, sharp voice of the cap¬ 
tain was heard giving orders, as though for life or death, 
and we ran aft to the braces, not waiting to look ahead, 
for not a moment was to be lost. The helm was hard up, 
the after yards shaking, and the ship in the act of wearing. 
Slowly, with the stiff ropes and iced rigging, we swung the 
yards round, everything coming hard. The ship wore round 
fairly, the yards were steadied, and we stood off on the 
other tack, leaving behind us, directly under our larboard 
quarter, a large ice island, peering out of the mist, and 
reaching high above our tops, while astern, and on either 
side of the island, large tracts of field-ice were dimly seen, 
heaving and rolling in the sea. We were now safe, and 
standing to the northward; but, in a few minutes more, 

190 


KILLING TIME AT CAPE HORN 191 


had it not been for the sharp lookout of the watch, we 
should have been fairly upon the ice, and left our ship’s old 
bones adrift in the Southern Ocean. 

With a fair wind we soon ran clear of the field-ice, and 
by noon had only the stray islands floating far and near 
upon the ocean. The sun was out bright, the sea of a deep 
blue, fringed with the white foam of the waves, which ran 
high before a strong southwester; our solitary ship tore on 
through the water as though glad to be out of her confine¬ 
ment; and the ice islands lay scattered upon the ocean here 
and there, of various sizes and shapes, reflecting the bright 
rays of the sun, and drifting slowly northward before the 
gale. It was a contrast to much that we had lately seen, 
and a spectacle not only of beauty, but of life. 

From a northeast course we gradually hauled to the east¬ 
ward; and after sailing about two hundred miles, which 
brought us as near to the western coast of Terra del Fuego 
as was safe, and having lost sight of the ice altogether, for 
the third time we put the ship’s head to the southward, to 
try the passage of the Cape. The weather continued clear 
and cold, and we were fast getting up with the latitude of 
the Cape, with a prospect of soon being round. One fine 
afternoon, a man who had gone into the foretop to shift 
the rolling tackles sang out, at the top of his voice,—“Sail 
ho!” Any one who has traversed the length of a whole 
ocean alone can imagine what an excitement such an an¬ 
nouncement produced on board. Beside the pleasure of 
seeing a ship and human beings in so desolate a place, it 
was important for us to speak a vessel, to learn whether 
there was ice to the eastward, and to ascertain the longitude; 
for we had no chronometer, and had been drifting about 
so long that we had nearly lost our reckoning. For these 
various reasons, the excitement in our little community was 
running high, when the man aloft sang out—“Another sail, 
large on the weather bow!” At length the man in the top 
hailed, and said he believed it was land after all. “Land 
in your eye!” said the mate, who was looking through the 


192 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


telescope; “they are ice islands”; and a few moments showed 
the mate to be right, and instead of what we most wished 
to see, we had what we most dreaded. We soon, however, 
left these astern, and at sundown the horizon was clear in 
all directions. 

Having a fine wind, we were soon up with and passed 
the latitude of the Cape; and having stood far enough to 
the southward to give it a wide berth, we began to stand 
to the eastward, with a good prospect of being round, and 
steering to the northward on the other side in a very few 
days. But not four hours had we been standing on in this 
course before it fell dead calm; and in an hour more we 
lay hove-to under a close-reefed main topsail drifting bodily 
off to leeward before the fiercest storm that we had yet 
felt, blowing dead ahead from the eastward. It seemed as 
though the genius of the place had been roused at finding 
that we had nearly slipped through his fingers, and had come 
down upon us with tenfold fury. 

For eight days we lay drifting about in this manner. 
Sometimes—generally towards noon—it fell calm; once or 
twice a round copper ball showed itself for a few moments 
in the place where the sun ought to have been; and a puff 
or two came from the westward, giving some hope that a 
fair wind had come at last. 

We had less snow and hail than when we were farther 
to the westward; but we had an abundance of what is worse 
to a sailor in cold weather—drenching rain. Snow is blind¬ 
ing, and very bad when coming upon a coast, but for genu¬ 
ine discomfort give me rain with freezing weather. A 
snowstorm is exciting, and it does not wet through the 
clothes (which is important to a sailor), but a constant 
rain there is no escaping from. It wets to the skin, and 
makes all protection vain. We had long ago run through 
all our dry clothes, and as sailors have no other way of 
drying them than by the sun, we had nothing to do but to 
put on those which were the least wet. At the end of each 
watch, when we came below, we took off our clothes and 


KILLING TIME AT CAPE HORN 193 


wrung them out, two taking hold of a pair of trousers, one 
at each end, and jackets in the same way. Stockings, mit¬ 
tens, and all were wrung out also, and then hung up to 
drain and chafe dry against the bulkheads. Then, feeling 
all our clothes, we picked out those which were the least 
wet, and put them on, so as to be ready for a call, and turned 
in, covered ourselves up with blankets, and slept until three 
knocks on the scuttle, and the dismal sound of “All star- 
bowlines ahoy! Eight bells, there below! Do you hear 
the news?” drawled out from on deck, and the sulky answer 
of “Ay, ay!” from below, sent us up again. 

On deck all was as dark as pitch, and either a dead calm 
with the rain pouring steadily down, or more generally a 
violent gale dead ahead, with rain pelting horizontally, and 
occasional variations of hail and sleet; and constantly wet 
feet—for boots could not be wrung out like drawers, and 
no composition could stand the constant soaking. Few 
words were spoken between the watches as they shifted, 
the wheel was relieved, the mate took his place on the 
quarter-deck, the lookouts in the bows, and each man had 
his narrow space to swing himself forward and back in, 
from one belaying-pin to another—for the decks were too 
slippery with ice and water to allow of much walking. The 
bells seemed to be an hour or two apart, instead of half 
an hour, and an age to elapse before the welcome sound of 
eight bells. 

I commenced a deliberate system of time-killing, which 
united some profit with a cheering up of the heavy hours. 
As soon as I came on deck, and took my place and regular 
walk, I began with repeating over to myself a string of 
matters which I had in my memory, in regular order. In 
this way, with an occasional break relieving the wheel, heav¬ 
ing the log, and going to the scuttle-butt for a drink of 
water, the longest watch was passed away; and I was so 
regular in my silent recitations, that if there was no inter¬ 
ruption by ship’s duty, I could tell very nearly the number 
of bells by my progress. 


194 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


Our watches below were no more varied than the watch 
on deck. All washing, sewing, and reading was given up; 
and we did nothing but eat, sleep, and stand our watch, 
leading what might be called a Cape-Horn life. At every 
watch, when we came below, before turning in, the bread- 
barge and beef-kid were overhauled. Each man drank his 
quart of hot tea night and morning: and glad enough we 
were to get it, for no nectar and ambrosia were sweeter to 
the lazy immortals than was a pot of hot tea, a hard biscuit, 
and a slice of cold salt beef to us, after a watch on deck. 

Friday, July 22 .—This day we had a steady gale from 
the southward, and stood on under close sail, with the yards 
eased a little by the weather braces, the clouds lifting a 
little, and showing signs of breaking away. In the after¬ 
noon I was below with the third mate, and two others, 
filling the bread-locker in the steerage from the casks, when 
a bright gleam of sunshine broke out and shone down the 
companionway and through the skylight, lighting up every¬ 
thing below, and sending a warm glow through the heart 
of every one. It was a sight we had not seen for weeks. 
Even the roughest and hardest face acknowledged its influ¬ 
ence. Just at that moment we heard a loud shout from 
all parts of the deck, and the mate called out down the 
companion-way to the captain, who was sitting in the cabin. 
What he said we could not distinguish; but the captain 
kicked over his chair, and was on deck at one jump. We 
could not tell what it was; and, anxious as we were to 
know, the discipline of the ship would not allow of our 
leaving our places. Yet, as we were not called, we knew 
there was no danger. We hurried to get through with our 
job r when, seeing the steward’s black face peering out of 

the pantry, Mr. H- hailed him, to know what was the 

matter. “Lan* o, to be sure, sir! De cap’em say ’im Cape 
Horn!” 

This gave us a new start, and we were soon through our 
work, and on deck; and there lay the land, fair upon the 
larboard beam, and slowly edging away upon the quarter. 



KILLING TIME AT CAPE HORN 195 


The land was the island of Staten Land, just to the 
eastward of Cape Horn; and a more desolate-looking spot 
I never wish to set eyes upon. Yet, dismal as it was, it was 
a pleasant sight to us; not only as being the first land we 
had seen, but because it told us that we had passed the Cape, 
were in the Atlantic, and that, with twenty-four hours of 
this breeze, might bid defiance to the Southern Ocean. It 
told us, too, our latitude and longitude better than any 
observation. 

We left the land gradually astern; and at sundown had 
the Atlantic Ocean clear before us. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


ON THE ATLANTIC AGAIN 

It is usual in voyages round the Cape from the Pacific 
to keep to the eastward of the Falkland Islands; but as it 
had now set in a strong, steady, and clear southwester, 
with every prospect of its lasting, and we had had enough 
of high latitudes, the captain determined to stand immedi¬ 
ately to the northward, running inside the Falkland Islands. 
Accordingly, when the wheel was relieved at eight o’clock, 
the order was given to keep her due north, and all hands 
were turned up to square away the yards and make sail. 
The wind was now due southwest, and blowing a gale to 
which a vessel close-hauled could have shown no more than 
a single close-reefed sail; but as we were going before it, 
we could carry on. Accordingly, hands were sent aloft, 
and a reef shaken out of the topsails, and the reefed foresail 
set. When we came to mast-head the topsail-yards, with 
all hands at the halyards, we struck up “Cheerily, men,” 
with a chorus which might have been heard halfway to 
Staten Land. Under her increased sail, the ship drove on 
through the water. Yet she could bear it well; and the 
captain sang out from the quarter-deck, “Another reef out 
of that foretopsail!” Two hands sprang aloft; the frozen 
reef-points and earings were cast adrift, the halyards 
manned, and the sail gave out her increased canvas to the 
gale. It was as much as she could well carry, and with a 
heavy sea astern, it took two men at the wheel to steer her. 
Still everything held. 

The captain walked the deck at a rapid stride, looked 
aloft at the sails, and then to windward; the mate stood 
in the gangway rubbing his hands, and talking aloud to 
196 


ON THE ATLANTIC AGAIN 197 


the ship—“Hurrah, old bucket! the Boston girls have got 
hold of the tow-rope!” and the like; and we were on the 
forecastle, looking to see how the spars stood it, and guess¬ 
ing the rate at which she was going, when the captain called 
out—“Mr. Brown, get up the topmast studding-sail! What 
she can’t carry she may drag!” The mate looked a mo¬ 
ment ; but he would let no one be before him in daring. 
He sprang forward—“Hurrah, men! rig out the topmast 
studding-sail boom! lay aloft, and I’ll send the rigging up 
to you!” 

We sprang aloft into the top; lowered a girt-line down, 
by which we hauled up the rigging; rove the tacks and 
halyards; ran out the boom and lashed it fast; and sent 
down the lower halyards as a preventer. It was a clear 
starlight night, cold and blowing; but everybody worked 
with a will. 

Every rope-yarn seemed stretched to the utmost and 
every thread of canvas; and with this sail added to her the 
ship sprang through the water like a thing possessed. The 
sail being nearly all forward, it lifted her out of the water, 
and she seemed actually to jump from sea to sea. 

Finding that she would bear the sail the hands were sent 
below and our watch remained on deck. Two men at the 
wheel had as much as they could do to keep her within 
three points of her course, for she steered as wild as a 
young colt. I went to the wheel with a young fellow from 
the Kennebec, who was a good helmsman; and for two hours 
we had our hands full. A few minutes showed us that our 
monkey-jackets must come off; and cold as it was, we stood 
in our shirt-sleeves, in a perspiration, and were glad enough 
to have it eight bells and the wheel relieved. 

At four o’clock we were called again. The same sail 
was still on the vessel, and the gale, if there was any change, 
had increased a little. No attempt was made to take the 
studding-sail in, and, indeed, it was too late now. If we 
had started anything towards taking it in, either tack or 
halyards, it would have blown to pieces and carried some- 


198 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


thing away with it. For more than an hour she was driven 
on at such a rate that she seemed actually to crowd the 
sea into a heap before her; and the water poured over the 
spritsail yard as it would over a dam. Toward daybreak 
the gale abated a little, and she was just beginning to go 
more easily along, relieved of the pressure, when Mr. Brown 
determined to give her no respite, and depending upon the 
wind’s subsiding as the sun rose, told us to get along the 
lower studding-sail. This was an immense sail, and held 
wind enough to last a Dutchman a week. Yet such was 
still the force of the gale that we were nearly an hour 
setting the sail. 

No sooner was it set than the ship tore on again like 
one that was mad, and began to steer as wild as a hawk. 
The men at the wheel were puffing and blowing at their 
work, and the helm was going hard up and hard down 
constantly. Add to this, the gale did not lessen as the day 
came on, but the sun rose in clouds. A sudden lurch threw 
the man from the weather wheel across the deck and against 
the side. The mate sprang to the wheel, and the man, 
regaining his feet, seized the spokes, and they hove the 
wheel up just in time to save her from broaching-to, though 
nearly half the studding-sail went under water; and as she 
came-to, the boom stood up at an angle of forty-five degrees. 
She had evidently more on her than she could bear; yet it 
was in vain to try to take it in—the clewline was not strong 
enough; and they were thinking of cutting away when 
another wide yaw and a come-to snapped the guys, and the 
swinging boom came in with a crash against the lower 
rigging. The outhaul-block gave way, and the topmast 
studding-sail boom bent in a manner which I never before 
supposed a stick could bend. The clewline gave way at 
the first pull; the cleat to which the halyards were belayed 
was wrenched off, and the sail blew round the spritsail 
yard and head guys, which gave us a bad job to get it in. 

Sunday, July 24 .—We were in latitude 50° 27' s., longi¬ 
tude 62° 13' w., having made four degrees of latitude in 


ON THE ATLANTIC AGAIN 199 


the last twenty-four hours. Being now to the northward of 
the Falkland Islands, the ship was kept off, northeast, for 
the equator; and with her head for the equator, and Cape 
Horn over her taffrail, she went gloriously on. Every one 
was in the highest spirits, and the ship seemed glad as any 
of us at getting out of her confinement. Each day the sun 
rose higher in the horizon, and the nights grew shorter; 
and at coming on deck each morning there was a sensible 
change in the temperature. As we left the gale behind us 
the reefs were shaken out of the topsails, and sail made as 
fast as she could bear it; and every time all hands were 
sent to the halyards a song was called for, and we hoisted 
away with a will. 

Sunday, July 31 .—At noon we were in lat. 36° 41' s., 
long. 38° 08' w., having traversed the distance of two 
thousand miles, allowing for changes of course, in nine days. 

Soon after eight o’clock the appearance of the ship gave 
evidence that this was the first Sunday we had yet had in 
fine weather. As the sun came up clear, with the promise 
of a fair, warm day, and, as usual on Sunday, there was 
no work going on, all hands turned-to upon clearing out 
the forecastle. The wet and soiled clothes which had ac¬ 
cumulated there during the past month were brought up 
on deck; the chests moved; brooms, buckets of water, swabs, 
scrubbing-brushes, and scrapers carried down and applied, 
until the forecastle floor was as white as chalk and every¬ 
thing neat and in order. The bedding from the berths 
was then spread on deck and dried and aired; the deck-tub 
filled with water, and a grand washing begun of all the 
clothes which were brought up. After we had done with 
our clothes we began upon our own persons. A little fresh 
water which we had saved from our allowance was put 
in buckets, and with soap and towels, we had what sailors 
call a fresh-water wash. After this came shaving and 
combing and brushing; and when, having spent the first part 
of the day in this way, we sat down on the forecastle in the 
afternoon, with clean duck trousers and shirts on, washed, 


200 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


shaved, and combed, and looking a dozen shades lighter 
for it, reading, sewing, and talking at our ease, with a 
clear sky and warm sun over our heads, a steady breeze 
over the larboard quarter, studding-sails out alow and aloft, 
and all the flying kites abroad—we felt that we had got 
back into the pleasantest part of a sailor’s life. 

One night, while we were in these tropics, I went out 
to the end of the flying jib-boom upon some duty, and 
having finished it turned round and lay over the boom for 
a long time, admiring the beauty of the sight before me. 
Being so far out from the deck I could look at the ship as 
at a separate vessel, and there rose up from the water, 
supported only by the small black hull, a pyramid of canvas, 
spreading out far beyond the hull, and towering up almost, 
as it seemed in the indistinct night air, to the clouds. The 
sea was as still as an inland lake; the light trade-wind 
was gently and steadily breathing from astern; there was 
no sound but the rippling of the water under the stem; 
and the sails were spread out wide and high—the two lower 
studding-sails stretching, on each side, far beyond the deck; 
the topmast studding-sails, like wings to the topsails; the 
topgallant studding-sails spreading fearlessly out above them; 
still higher, the two royal studding-sails, looking like two 
kites flying from the same string; and, highest of all, the 
little skysail, the apex of the pyramid, seeming actually to 
touch the stars and to be out of reach of human hand. Not 
a ripple upon the surface of the canvas, not even a quivering 
of the extreme edges of the sails, so perfectly were they 
distended by the breeze. 

The fine weather brought work with it, as the ship was 
to be put in order for coming into port. The new, strong 
sails, which we had up off Cape Horn, were to be sent 
down, and the old set, which were still serviceable in fine 
weather, to be bent in their place; all the rigging to be 
set up, fore and aft; the masts stayed; the standing rigging 
to be tarred down; lower and topmast rigging rattled 
down, fore and aft; the ship scraped, inside and out, and 


ON THE ATLANTIC AGAIN 201 


painted; decks varnished; new and neat knots, seizings, and 
^coverings to be fitted; and every part put in order, to look 
well to the owner’s eye on coming into Boston. 

In merchant vessels the captain gives his orders, as to the 
ship’s work, to the mate, in a general way, and leaves the 
execution of them, with the particular ordering, to him. 
This has become so fixed a custom that it is like a law, and 
is never infringed upon by a wise master unless his mate is 
no seaman. This, however, could not be said of our chief 
mate; and he was very jealous of any encroachment upon 
the borders of his authority. 

On Monday morning the captain told him to stay the 
fore top-mast plumb. He accordingly came forward, turned 
all hands to, with tackles on the stays and backstays, coming 
up with the seizings, hauling here, belaying there, and full 
of business, standing between the knight-heads to sight the 
mast, when the captain came forward, and also began to 
give orders. This made confusion; and the mate, finding 
that he was all aback, left his place and went aft, saying to 
the captain: 

“If you come forward, sir, I’ll go aft. One is enough 
on the forecastle.” 

This produced a reply and another fierce answer; and 
the words flew, fists were doubled up, and things looked 
threateningly. 

“I’m master of this ship.” 

“Yes, sir, and I’m mate of her, and know my place! 
My place is forward, and yours is aft!” 

“My place is where I choose! I command the whole 
ship; and you are mate only so long as I choose!” 

“Say the word, Captain T., and I’m done! I can do a 
man’s work aboard! I didn’t come through the cabin 
windows! If I’m not mate I can be man.” 

This was all fun for us, who stood by, winking at each 
other, and enjoying the contest between the higher powers. 
The captain took the mate aft; and they had a long talk, 
which ended in the mate’s returning to his duty. The cap- 


202 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


tain had broken through a custom, which is a part of the 
common law of a ship, and without reason, for he knew 
that his mate was a sailor, and needed no help from him, 
and the mate was excusable for being angry. Yet he was 
wrong, and the captain right. 


CHAPTER XXX 


A NARROW ESCAPE 

The same day I met with one of those narrow escapes 
which are so often happening in a sailor’s life. I had been 
aloft nearly all the afternoon at work, standing for as much 
as an hour on the fore topgallant-yard, which was hoisted 
up, and hung only by the tie, when, having got through 
my work, I balled up my yarns, took my serving-board in 
my hand, laid hold deliberately of the topgallant rigging, 
took one foot from the yard, and was just lifting the other 
when the tie parted and down the yard fell. I was safe, by 
my hold upon the rigging, but it made my heart beat quick. 

Had the tie parted one instant sooner, or had I stood 
an instant longer upon the yard, I should inevitably have 
been thrown violently from the height of ninety or a hun¬ 
dred feet overboard, or, what is worse, upon the deck. An 
escape is always a joke on board ship. A man would be 
ridiculed who should make a serious matter of it. One 
of our boys, when off Cape Horn, reefing topsails of a dark 
night, and when there were no boats to be lowered away, 
and where, if a man fell overboard, he must be left behind, 
lost his hold of the reef-point, slipped from the foot-rope, 
and would have been in the water in a moment, when the 
man who was next to him on the yard, caught him by the 
collar of his jacket and hauled him up upon the yard, with, 
“Hold on another time, you young monkey,” and that was 
all that was heard about it. 

Friday, August 12 .—At daylight made the island of 
Trinidad, situated in lat. 20° 28’ S., long. 29° 08' w. At 
twelve M. it bore N.w. y 2 N., distant twenty-seven miles. It 
was a beautiful day, the sea hardly ruffled by the light 

203 


204 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


trades, and the island looking like a small blue mound rising 
from a field of glass. 

Sunday, August 28 .—In lat. 12° N. The trade-wind 
clouds had been in sight for a day or two previously, and 
we expected to take them every hour. The light southerly 
breeze, which had been blowing languidly during the first 
part of the day, died away toward noon, and in its place 
came puffs from the northeast, which caused us to take our 
studding-sails in and brace up; and in a couple of hours 
more we were bowling gloriously along, with the cool, 
steady, northeasterly trades freshening up the sea, and giv¬ 
ing us as much as we could carry our royals to. 

Sunday, September 4 .—They left us, in lat. 22° N., long. 
51° w., directly under the tropic of Cancer. 

For several days we lay “humbugging about” in the 
Horse latitudes, with all sorts of winds and weather, and 
occasionally, as we were in the latitude of the West Indies, 
a thunderstorm. The first night after the trade-winds left 
us, while we were in the latitude of the island of Cuba, 
we had a specimen of a true tropical thunderstorm. Before 
midnight it was dead calm, and a heavy black cloud had 
shrouded the whole sky. When our watch came on deck 
at twelve o’clock it was as black as Erebus; not a breath 
was stirring; the sails hung heavy and motionless from the 
yards; and the perfect stillness, and the darkness, which was 
almost palpable, were truly appalling. Not a word was 
spoken, but every one stood as though waiting for something 
to happen. In a few minutes the mate came forward, and 
in a low tone which was almost a whisper, told us to haul 
down the jib. The fore and mizzen topgallant-sails were 
taken in, in the same silent manner; and we lay motionless 
upon the water, with an uneasy expectation, which, from 
the long suspense, became actually painful. Soon the mate 
came forward again and gave an order to clew up the main 
topgallant-sail; and so infectious was the awe and silence 
that the clewlines and buntlines were hauled up without 
any of the customary singing out at the ropes. An English 


A NARROW ESCAPE 


205 


lad and myself went up to furl it; and we had just got the 
bunt up when the mate called out to us something, we 
did not hear what; but, supposing it to be an order to bear 
a hand, we hurried, and made all fast, and came down, 
feeling our way among the rigging. 

When we got down we found all hands looking aloft, 
and there, directly over where we had been standing, upon 
the main topgallant masthead, was a ball of light, which 
the sailors name a corposant (corpus sancti). They w^ere 
all watching it carefully, for sailors have a notion that if 
the corposant rises in the rigging it is a sign of fair weather, 
but if it comes lower down there will be a storm. Unfortu¬ 
nately, as an omen, it came down, and showed itself on the 
topgallant yard-arm. 

In a few minutes it disappeared and showed itself again 
on the fore topgallant-yard, and, after playing about for 
some time, disappeared again, when the man on the fore¬ 
castle pointed to it upon the flying-jib-boom-end. But our 
attention was drawn from watching this by the falling of 
some drops of rain. In a few minutes low grumbling thun¬ 
der was heard, and some random flashes of lightning came 
from the southwest. Every sail was taken in but the top¬ 
sail. A few puffs lifted the topsails, but they fell again to 
the mast, and all was as still as ever. A moment more and 
a terrific flash and peal broke simultaneously upon us, and 
a cloud appeared to open directly over our heads, and let 
down the water in one body like a falling ocean. We stood 
motionless and almost stupefied, yet nothing had been struck. 
Peal after peal rattled over our heads with a sound which 
actually seemed to stop the breath in the body. The violent 
fall of the rain lasted but a few minutes, and was succeeded 
by occasional drops and showers; but the lightning con¬ 
tinued incessant for several hours, breaking the midnight 
darkness with irregular and blinding flashes. 

During all this time hardly a word was spoken, no bells 
were struck, and the wheel was silently relieved. The 
rain fell at intervals in heavy showers, and we stood 


206 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


drenched through, and blinded by the flashes, which broke 
the Egyptian darkness with a brightness which seemed al¬ 
most malignant; while the thunder rolled in peals, the 
concussion of which appeared to shake the very ocean. A 
ship is not often injured by lightning, for the electricity is 
separated 'by the great number of points she presents, and 
the quantity of iron which she has scattered in various parts. 
The electric fluid ran over our anchors, topsail-sheets, and 
ties; yet no harm was done to us. We went below at four 
o’clock, leaving things in the same state. It is not easy to 
sleep when the very next flash may tear the ship in two 
or set her on fire; or where the death-like calm may be 
broken by the blast of a hurricane taking the masts out of 
the ship. But a man is no sailor if he cannot sleep when 
he turns in, and turn out when he’s called. And when, at 
seven bells, the customary “All the larboard watch, ahoy!” 
brought us on deck, it was a fine, clear, sunny morning, 
the ship going leisurely along, with a good breeze, and all 
sail set. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


DANGER FROM SCURVY 

From the latitude of the West Indies, until we got 
inside the Bermudas, where we took the westerly and south¬ 
westerly winds, which blow steadily off the coast of the 
United States early in the autumn, we had every variety 
of weather, and two or three moderate gales. 

Beside the natural desire to get home, we had another 
reason for urging the ship on. The scurvy had begun to 
show itself on board. One man had it so badly as to be 
disabled and off duty; and the English lad, Ben, was in 
a dreadful state, and was daily growing worse. His legs 
swelled and pained him so that he could not walk; his flesh 
lost its elasticity, so that if it was pressed in, it would not 
return to its shape; and his gums swelled until he could 
not open his mouth. His breath, too, became very offensive; 
he lost all his strength and spirit; could eat nothing; grew 
worse every day; and, in fact, unless something was done 
for him, would be a dead man in a week at the rate at which 
he was sinking. The medicines were all, or nearly all, 
gone; and if we had had a chest-full, they would have been 
of no use; for nothing but fresh provisions and terra firma 
has any effect upon the scurvy. 

Depending upon the westerly winds, which prevail off 
the coast in the autumn, the captain stood well to the west¬ 
ward, to run inside of the Bermudas, and in hope of falling 
in with some vessel bound to the West Indies or the 
Southern States. The scurvy had spread no farther among 
the crew, but there was danger it might; and these cases 
were bad ones. 

Sunday, September 11. —Lat. 30° 04' N., long. 63° 23' 
207 


208 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


w.; the Bermudas bearing north-northwest, distant one 
hundred and fifty miles. The next morning, about ten 
o’clock, “Sail ho!” was cried on deck, and all hands turned 
up to see the stranger. As she drew nearer, she proved to 
be an ordinary-looking hermaphrodite brig, standing south- 
southeast. She hove-to for us, seeing that we wished to 
speak her; and we ran down to her, boom-ended our stud¬ 
ding-sails, backed our main topsail, and hailed her—“Brig 
ahoy!”—“Hallo!”—“Where are you from, pray?”—“From 
New York, bound to Curasao.”—“Have you any fresh 
provisions to spare?”—“Ay, ay, plenty of them!” We 
lowered away the quarter-boat instantly; and the captain 
and four hands sprang in, and were soon dancing over the 
water, and alongside the brig. In about half an hour they 
returned with half a boat-load of potatoes and onions, and 
each vessel filled away, and kept on her course. She proved 
to be the brig Solon , of Plymouth, from the Connecticut 
river, and last from New York, bound to the Spanish Main, 
with a cargo of fresh provisions, mules, tin bake-pans, and 
other notions. 

It was just dinner-time when we filled away; and the 
steward, taking a few bunches of onions for the cabin, gave 
the rest to us, with a bottle of vinegar. We carried them 
forward, stowed them away in the forecastle, refusing to 
have them cooked, and ate them raw, with our beef and 
bread. And a glorious treat they were. The freshness and 
crispness of the raw onion, with the earthy taste, give it a 
great relish to one who has been a long time on salt pro¬ 
visions. We were perfectly ravenous after them. We ate 
them at every meal, by the dozen; and filled our pockets 
with them, to eat in our watch on deck. 

The chief use, however, of the fresh provisions was for 
the men with the scurvy. One of them was able to eat, 
and he soon brought himself to by gnawing upon raw pota¬ 
toes; but the other, by this time, was hardly able to open 
his mouth; and the cook took the potatoes raw, pounded 
them in a mortar, and gave him the juice to drink. The 


DANGER FROM SCURVY 


209 


strong earthy taste and smell of this extract of the raw 
potatoes at first produced a shuddering through his whole 
frame, and after drinking it, an acute pain, which ran 
through all parts of his body; but knowing by this that it 
was taking strong hold, he persevered, drinking a spoonful 
every hour or so, until, by the effect of this drink, and of 
his own restored hope, he became so well as to be able to 
move about, and open his mouth enough to eat the raw 
potatoes and onions pounded into a soft pulp. This course 
soon restored his appetite and strength; and ten days after 
we spoke the Solon , so rapid was his recovery that, from 
lying helpless and almost hopeless in his berth, he was at 
the masthead, furling a royal. 

With a fine southwest wind we passed inside of the 
Bermudas; and notwithstanding the old couplet, which was 
quoted again and again by those who thought we should 
have one more touch of a storm before our voyage was up—• 

“If the Bermudas let you pass, 

You must beware of Hatteras—” 

we were to the northward of Hatteras, with good weather, 
and beginning to count, not the days, but the hours, to the 
time when we should be at anchor in Boston harbour. 

Thursday, September 15 .—This morning the temperature 
and peculiar appearance of the water, the quantities of gulf- 
weed floating about, and a bank of clouds lying directly 
before us, showed that we were on the border of the 
Gulf Stream. This remarkable current, running northeast, 
nearly across the ocean, is almost constantly shrouded in 
clouds, and is the region of storms and heavy seas. Vessels 
often run from a clear sky and light wind, with all sail, 
at once into a heavy sea and cloudy sky, with double-reefed 
topsails. As we drew into it the sky became cloudy, the 
sea high, and everything had the appearance of the going 
off, or the coming on, of a storm. It was blowing no more 
than a stiff breeze; yet the wind, being northeast, which 


210 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


is directly against the course of the current, made an ugly, 
chopping sea, which heaved and pitched the vessel about. 
At noon the thermometer, which had been repeatedly low¬ 
ered into the water, showed the temperature to seventy, 
which was considerably above that of the air—as is always 
the case in the centre of the Stream. A few hours more 
carried us through; and when we saw the sun go down 
upon our larboard beam in the direction of the continent 
of North America, we had left the bank of dark, stormy 
clouds astern in the twilight. 


CHAPTER XXXII 


HOME AGAIN! 

Friday, September 16 .—Latitude 38° N., long. 69° 00' 
w. A fine southwest wind; every hour carrying us nearer 
in toward the land. All hands on deck at the dog-watch, 
and nothing talked about but our getting in. Every one 
was in the best spirits; and the voyage being nearly at an 
end, the strictness of discipline was relaxed; for it was not 
necessary to order in a cross tone what every one was ready 
to do with a will. The little differences and quarrels which 
a long voyage breeds on board a ship were forgotten, and 
every one was friendly. When the mate came forward he 
talked to the men, and said we should be on George’s Bank 
before to-morrow noon; and joked with the boys, promising 
to go and see them, and to take them down to Marblehead 
in a coach. 

Saturday , September 17 .—The wind was light all day, 
which kept us back somewhat; but a fine breeze springing 
up at nightfall, we were running fast in toward the land. 
At six o’clock we expected to have the ship hove-to for 
soundings, as a thick fog coming up showed we were near 
them; but no order was given, and we kept on our way. 
Eight o’clock came, and the watch went below; and, for 
the whole of the first hour, the ship was tearing on with 
studding-sails out, alow and aloft, and the night as dark 
as a pocket. At two bells the captain came on deck, and 
said a word to the mate, when the studding-sails were 
hauled into the tops, or boom-ended, the after-yards backed, 
the deep-sea lead carried forward, and everything got ready 
for sounding. 

A man on the sprit-sail yard with the lead, another on 
211 


212 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


the cat-head with a handful of the line coiled up, another 
in the fore-chains, another in the waist, and another in the 
main-chains—each with a quantity of the line coiled away 
in his hand. “All ready there, forward?” “Ay, ay, sir!” 
“He-e-ave!” “Watch! ho! watch!” sings out the man on 
the sprit-sail yard, and the heavy lead drops in the water. 
“Watch! ho! watch!” bawls the man on the cat-head, as 
the last fake of the coil drops from his hand; and “Watch! 
ho! watch!” is shouted by each one as the line falls from 
his hold, until it comes to the mate, who tends the lead, 
and has the line in coils on the quarter-deck. Eighty 
fathoms, and no bottom! The line is snatched in a block 
upon the swifter, and three or four men haul it in and coil 
it away. The after-yards are braced full, the studding- 
sails hauled out again, and in a few minutes more the ship 
has her whole way upon her. At four bells, backed again, 
hove the lead, and—soundings! at sixty fathoms! Hurrah 
for Yankee land! Hand over hand we hauled the lead in, 
and the captain, taking it to the light, found black mud 
on the bottom. Studding sails taken in; after-yards filled, 
and ship kept on under easy sail all night, the wind dying 
away. 

Being off Block Island, our course was due east to 
Nantucket Shoals and the South Channel; but the wind 
died away, and left us becalmed in a thick fog, in which 
we lay all Sunday. At noon, 

Sundayj September 18 ,—Block Island bore, by calcula¬ 
tion, N.w. % w. fifteen miles; but the fog was so thick all 
day that we could see nothing. 

Having got through the ship’s duty, and washed and 
shaved, we went below, and had a fine time overhauling 
our chests, laying aside the clothes we meant to go ashore 
in, and throwing overboard all that were worn out and 
good for nothing. We got our chests all ready for going 
ashore; ate the last “duff” we expected to have on board 
the ship Alert; and talked as confidently about matters on 
shore as though our anchor were on the bottom. 


HOME AGAIN! 


213 


Toward night a moderate breeze sprang up, the fog, 
however, continuing as thick as before; and we kept on to 
the eastward. About the middle of the first watch a man 
on the forecastle sung out, in a tone which showed that 
there was not a moment to be lost, “Hard up the helm!” 
and a great ship loomed up out of the fog, coming directly 
down upon us. She luffed at the same moment, and we 
just passed one another—our spanker-boom grazing over 
her quarter. The fog continued through the night, with 
a very light breeze, before which we ran to the eastward, 
literally feeling our way along. The lead was hove every 
two hours, and the gradual change from black mud to sand 
showed that we were approaching Nantucket South Shoals. 

On Monday morning the increased depth and deep blue 
colour of the water, and the mixture of shells and white 
sand which we brought up, upon sounding, showed that we 
were in the channel and nearing George’s. Accordingly, 
the ship’s head was put directly to the northward, and we 
stood on, with perfect confidence in the soundings, though 
we had not taken an observation for two days, nor seen 
land. Throughout the day a provokingly light wind pre¬ 
vailed, and at eight o’clock a small fishing schooner, which 
we passed, told us we were nearly abreast of Chatham 
lights. Just before midnight a light land-breeze sprang up, 
which carried us well along; and at four o’clock, thinking 
ourselves to the northward of Race Point, we hauled upon 
the wind, and stood into the bay, north-northwest, for 
Boston light, and commenced firing guns for a pilot. Our 
watch went below at four o’clock, but could not sleep, for 
the watch on deck were banging away at the guns every 
few minutes. 

We turned out at daybreak to get a sight of land. In 
the grey of the morning, one or two small fishing smacks 
peered out of the mist; and when the broad day broke upon 
us, there lay the low sand-hills of Cape Cod over our lar¬ 
board quarter, and before us the wide waters of Massa¬ 
chusetts Bay, with here and there a sail gliding over its 


214 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


smooth surface. As we drew in toward the mouth of the 
harbour the vessels began to multiply, until the bay seemed 
actually alive with sails gliding about in every direction—• 
some on the wind, others before it, as they were bound to or 
from the emporium of trade and centre of the bay. It was 
a stirring sight for us, who had been months on the ocean 
without seeing anything but two solitary sails, and over two 
years without seeing more than the three or four traders 
on an almost desolate coast. About ten o’clock a little boat 
came bobbing over the water, and put a pilot on board. 
Being now within the scope of the telegraph stations, our 
signals were run up at the fore; and in half an hour after¬ 
wards the owner on ’Change, or in his counting-room, knew 
that his ship was below. 

The wind continuing very light, all hands were sent aloft 
to strip off the chafing gear; and battens, parcellings, round¬ 
ings, hoops, mats, and leathers came flying from aloft, and 
left the rigging neat and clean, stripped of all its sea bandag¬ 
ing. The last touch was put to the vessel by painting the 
skysail poles, and I was sent up to the fore, with a bucket 
of white paint and a brush, and touched her off, from the 
truck to the eyes of the royal rigging. At noon we lay 
becalmed off the lower lighthouse, and it being about slack 
water, we made little progress. About two o’clock a breeze 
sprang up ahead, from the westward, and we began beating 
up against it. 

We had all set our hearts upon getting up to town before 
night, and going ashore; but the tide, beginning to run 
strong against us, and the wind being ahead, we made but 
little by weather-bowing the tide, and the pilot gave orders 
to cock-bill the anchor and overhaul the chain. Making 
two long stretches, which brought us into the roads, under 
the lee of the Castle, he clewed up the topsails and let go 
the anchor; and for the first time since leaving San Diego— 
one hundred and thirty-five days—our anchor was upon 
bottom. In half an hour more we were lying snugly, with 


HOME AGAIN! 


215 


all sails furled, safe in Boston harbour, our long voyage 
ended. 

We had just done furling the sails, when a beautiful 
little pleasure-boat luffed up into the wind, under our 
quarter, and the junior partner of the firm, to which our 
ship belonged, jumped on board. I saw him from the 
mizzen topsail-yard, and knew him well. He shook the 
captain by the hand, and went down into the cabin, and in 
a few moments came up and inquired of the mate for me. 
The last time I had seen him I was in the uniform of an 
undergraduate of Harvard College, and now, to his aston¬ 
ishment, there came down from aloft a “rough alley” look¬ 
ing fellow, with duck trousers and red shirt, long hair, 
and face burnt as black as an Indian’s. He shook me by 
the hand, congratulated me upon my return, and my appear¬ 
ance of health and strength, and said my friends were all 
well. 

The captain went up to town in the boat with Mr. 

H-, and left us to pass another night on board ship, 

and to come up with the morning’s tide under command 
of the pilot. 

So much did we feel ourselves to be already at home, 
in anticipation, that our plain supper of hard bread and 
salt beef was barely touched; and many on board, to whom 
this was the first voyage, could scarcely sleep. 

About ten o’clock a sea-breeze sprang up, and the pilot 
gave orders to get the ship under way. All hands manned 
the windlass; and the long-drawn “Yo, heave ho!” which 
we had last heard dying aw’ay among the desolate hills of 
San Diego, soon brought the anchor to the bows; and, with 
a fair wind and tide, a bright sunny morning, royals and 
skysails set, ensign, streamer, signals, and pennant flying, 
and with our guns firing, we came swiftly and handsomely 
up to the city. Off the end of the wharf, we rounded-to 
and let go our anchor; and no sooner was it on the bottom 
than the decks were filled with people—custom-house offi¬ 
cers; Topliff’s agent, to inquire for news; others inquiring 



216 TWO YEARS BEFORE THE MAST 


for friends on board, or left upon the coast; and last and 
chief, boarding-house runners, to secure their men. The 
city bells were just ringing one when the last turn was 
made fast, and the crew dismissed; and in five minutes more, 
not a soul was left on board the good ship Alert but the old 
ship-keeper, who had come down from the counting-house 
to take charge of her. 


NOTES 


Page 1. Brig Pilgrim. A brig is a two-masted, square-rigged vessel. 

Page 1. Reeving. Passing the end of a rope through a hole or a block. 

Page 1. Studding-sail. A sail set outside a temporary sail at the 
foremast called the square sail. Studding-sails are carried only in a 
fair wind. 

Page 1. Royal-yards. A long spar or mast to which the royal sails, a 
kind of light sail, are attached. 

Page 1. Chafing-gear. Coverings put on rigging to prevent rubbing. 

Page 1. Fore-and-aft. Lengthwise of the ship. 

Page 1. Bows. Front of the ship. 

Page 1. Taffrail. A railing around the stern. 

Page 1. Long-boat. Large boat. 

Page 2. Roads. A place of anchorage off shore without harbor pro¬ 
tection. 

Page 2. Windlass. A horizontal machine placed on deck to assist in 
heavy lifting, such as in weighing anchor. 

Page 2. Trim the yards. Adjust the spars or masts to which sails are 
fastened. 

Page 4. Hawser. A very thick rope, anywhere from 5 to 10 inches in 
thickness. 

Page 4. Leeward. Toward the lee side, or toward the side opposite 
to that from which the wind blows. 

Page 4. Hatch. An opening in the deck. 

Page 4. Close-hauled. With the yards so braced up as to enable the 
ship to sail as close to windward as possible. 

Page 5. Topsail-halyards. Ropes for hoisting the sails to the top¬ 
masts. 

Page 5. Reef. To make the sail smaller by tying up part of it. 

Page 6. Swabbed down. Washed with a mop made of old rope. 

Page 6. Seven bells. On board ship a stroke on a bell marks the time. 
One bell strikes at midnight, at 4 o’clock, at 8 o’clock, and at noon. 
The bells ring every half hour, increasing from one to eight. Seven 
bells would therefore ring at 3 o’clock, 7 o’clock, and 11 o’clock. 

Page 6. Slush the mainmast. Rub the mast with grease. 

Page 6. Log. Line used to ascertain the rate of sailing. Log also 
means the ship’s journal or record. 

Page 7. Hawse. The hole in the bows through which the cable runs. 

Page 7. Larboard bow. The front of the ship on the left-hand side. 

Page 8. Log-book. The ship’s journal. 

Page 8. Furl. To roll up and fasten a sail to a spar. 

Page 8. Marline. Small loosely-twisted rope used for winding ropes. 
Marline-spike. A sharply-pointed iron used in splicing ropes. 

217 


218 


NOTES 


Page 8. Serving-boards. Boards used when wrapping ropes with 
cordage. 

Page 9. Galley. Place where the cooking is done. 

Page 10. Scuttled butt. Cask for water. 

Page 11. Seizing-stuff. Small cords for fastening. 

Page 11. Bowsed. Pulled with block and tackle. 

Page 11. Taut. Tight. 

Page 12. Oakum. Fibre obtained by untwisting old rope. Oakum 
is used for caulking, or plugging the seams of a boat. 

Page 12. Ad infinitum. Endlessly. 

Page 12. Holystone. To scrub the decks with a large flat piece of 
soft sandstone which is dragged over the deck by ropes. 

Page 13. Dolphin. A large fish. 

Page 13. Forecastle. That part of the deck in front of the foremast. 

Page 14. Trade-wind. A steady wind which blows near the equator 
at certain seasons. North of the equator it blows from the northeast, 
while south of the equator it blows from the southeast. 

Page 14. Clipper-built. Built for fast sailing. 

Page 14. Hull. Body of a ship. 

Page 15. Main royal. A sail used when there is a light breeze. 

Page 16. Kennebec. A river in Maine. 

Page 16. Weather beam. That side of the brig from which the wind 
blows. 

Page 16. Pernambuco. A port in eastern Brazil. 

Page 16. Catamarans. Long narrow rafts of logs. 

Page 17. La Plata. A river in eastern Argentina. 

Page 17. Flying-jib. The sail beyond the jib. The jib is a triangu¬ 
lar sail near the bow. 

Page 17. Trysail. A sail set fore-and-aft, hoisted on a small mast 
set behind the lower mast. 

Page 18. Reef-tackle. Machinery for shortening sail. 

Page 18. Shrouds and backstays. Ropes extending from top of mast 
to sides of ship to support masts, and ropes fastening masts, from top 
of one mast to foot of another mast. 

Page 18. Bunt. The middle portion of the sail. 

Page 18. Falkland Islands. Islands in the southern part of the At¬ 
lantic off the coast of South America. They belong to Great Britain. 

Page 18. Patagonia. The desolate region at the southern extremity 
of South America. 

Page 21. Magellan Clouds , Southern Cross. Both these phenomena 
are visible only to inhabitants of the southern countries. 

Page 21. Fore-scuttle , After-hatchway. Openings in the deck. 

Page 21. Hawse-hole. A hole in the bow of the vessel for the cable to 
pass through. 

Page 21. Knight-heads.^ Two strong pieces of timber, fixed on the 
opposite sides of the main deck, a little behind the fore-mast. They 
are sometimes called the bitts y but in this sense their upper parts only are 
denominated knight-heads. In olden times they were decorated with 
figures carved to resemble human heads. 

Page 22. Guys. A stay-rope for steadying a mast. 

Page 23. Fore spencer. A fore-and-aft sail at the front. 

Page 23. Starbowlines. The starboard, or right-hand, watch. 


NOTES 


219 


Page 24. Furl the jib. Roll up the triangular sail near the bow. 

Page 24. Abaft. Toward the stern. 

Page 24. Slatting. Flapping violently. 

Page 25. Hove-to. Lay to, that is, not sailing. 

Page 25. Kid. A small tub. 

Page 25. Scuppers. Holes cut bordering the deck to let water run off. 

Page 26. Larboard beam. The beam is the widest part of the ship. 
The larboard beam is the left side of the widest part of the ship (facing 
the bows). 

Page 27. Juan Fernandez. A rocky islaftd in the Pacific ocean near 
the coast of Chili. Here Alexander Selkirk is said to have lived alone 
for four years. Alexander Selkirk was the original Robinson Crusoe. 

Page 28. Starboardfuttock shrouds. Shrouds on the right side extend¬ 
ing from the futtock-plates to a band on the mast below. The futtock- 
plates are iron plates to which are fastened the ends of certain rigging. 

Page 30. Flying Dutchman. A ghost ship supposed to be visible to 
mariners off the coast of the Cape of Good Hope. The sight of this 
ship was an omen of ill luck. The superstitious sailors believed that the 
vessel had been laden with precious metal, but that after the commission 
of a horrible murder on board, a plague had broken out, and the stricken 
ship, denied admission at every port where it stopped, was doomed to 
continue forever its restless ghostly voyage. 

Page 30. Bremen. A seaport city of northwestern Germany. 

Page 30. Finn. A native of Finland, a country formerly belonging to 
Russia, and lying near the Baltic Sea. 

Page 30. Sandwich Islands. Hawaiian Islands, situated in the north¬ 
ern Pacific Ocean. These islands have been a territory of the United 
States since 1900. In Dana’s day they were independent and governed 
by a native king. 

Page 33. Presidio. Fort. 

Page 33. Botany Bay. An inlet on the eastern coast of New South 
Wales, Australia, five miles south of Sydney. It was first discovered 
by Captain Cook on his voyage of discovery in 1770, and named by the 
naturalists who accompanied his expedition. An English penal colony 
was sent there 7 or 8 years later, but respectable English colonists soon 
objected to the presence of so many convicts, and the penal colony was 
later transferred to Port Jackson. 

Page 33. Aqueduct. A water conduit for supplying water from a dis¬ 
tance. 

Page 34. Padre. Priest. Literally means father. 

Page 34. Foul hawse. Tangled rope. 

Page 34. Valparaiso. A seaport of Chili. 

Page 36. Lifts. Hoisting apparatus. 

Page 36. Ties. Cords. 

Page 39. Haze. To punish by hard work. An officer has the power 

to work a sailor exceedingly hard as a punishment for an offense or 

fancied offense. 

Page 39. Santa Barbara. In “California the Wonderful” Edwin 
Markham writes of the present-day Santa Barbara: “We feel in this 
quiet city the atmosphere of an old cathedral town, and mingled with 
that atmosphere is a fragrance from the serene Spanish life of the early 
years. The old Spanish home of the De la Guerras is still standing 


220 


NOTES 


with its tiles and patio—a hacienda renowned for old-time hospitality; 
and sprinkled here and there in picturesque nooks we find the humble 
adobe homes of the Mexicans." 

Page 40. Bay of Sir Francis Drake. Bay of San Francisco. Sir 
Francis Drake anchored near this bay in 1576 for the purpose of mending 
his ship. 

Page 40. San Francisco. San Francisco was founded in 1776 as a 
Spanish mission. The oldest Spanish chapel of Dolores still stands, 
and also the Presidio, or old Spanish fort. It owed its first real growth 
to the discovery of gold in California in 1849, but its importance as a 
shipping port has been due to the vast development of another sort of 
wealth than gold—to the wealth of orchard and fruit-farm. San Fran¬ 
cisco was partially destroyed by earthquake and fire in 1906, but a newer 
and a grander city at once arose from the ashes of the old. In Dana’s 
time San Francisco was only a little Spanish mission town, with nothing 
to indicate the possibility of any future greatness save the wonderful 
harbor. 

Page 40. Monterey. “Monterey was of old the capital of the State, 
a center of Spanish charm and courtesy. Bret Harte and Stevenson have 
celebrated it. Monterey lies there with foam bells at her feet and the 
pine-scented mountains at her back. Part of her domain is like drowsy 
old Mexico; part of it is quick with the eager life of today." (Edwin 
Markham in “California the Wonderful,” page 11.) 

Page 40. San Diego. This city lies on the coast at the extreme south¬ 
ern end of California. It was in her harbor that the first Spanish ex¬ 
plorers took refuge. It] was here also, in fthe early days of the Span¬ 
ish Missions, when ardent priests were laying the foundations for a 
Christian empire in the west, that Father Junipero Serra founded a 
cathedral, the ruins of which still remain. The city is today as modern 
as any other city in the United States. 

Page 41. Raking masts. Masts not perpendicular. 

Page 41. Guayaquil. Seaport of Ecuador in South America. 

Page 41. Callao. A seaport of Peru. 

Page 41. Mission of St. Buenaventura. The Spanish missions made a 
carefully planned effort to civilize and Christianize the Indians of Cali¬ 
fornia, and at one time had under their control as ijiany as 30,000 of 
them. Today the remains of these mission buildings are among the 
most picturesque of California sights. Says Edwin Markham (“Cali¬ 
fornia the Wonderful," page 79), “The names of these missions have 
soft, silver cadences, and they commemorate illustrious saints in the 
hierarchy of heaven.” 

Bret Harte wrote of the Mission bells of California: 

“ Bells of the Past, whose long-forgotten music 
Still fills the wide expanse, 

Tingeing the sober twilight of the Present 
With color of romance! 

“ I hear your call, and see the sun descending 
On rock and wave and sand, 

As down the coast the Mission voices, blending, 

Girdle the heathen land. 


NOTES 


221 


“ Borne on the swell of your long waves receding, 

I touch the farther Past— 

I see the dying glow of Spanish glory, 

The sunset dream and last! 

“ Before me rise the dome-shaped Mission towers. 

The white Presidio, 

The swart commander in his leathern jerkin. 

The priest in stole of snow. 

“Once more I see Portola’s cross uplifting 
Above the setting sun; 

And past the headland, northward, slowly drifting 
The freighted galleon. 

“O solemn bells, whose consecrated masses 
Recall the faith of old— 

O tinkling bells that lulled with twilight music 
The spiritual fold! 

“Your voices break and falter in the darkness- 
Break, falter, and are still; 

And veiled and mystic, like the Host descending. 

The sun sinks from the hill!” 

Page 42. Gunwale. Upper rail of a boat or of a ship. 

Page 44. Shipped his oar. Put his oar in its resting place. 

Page 45. Gaff. One of the spars. 

Page 47. Pinos. “Pines” (Spanish). 

Page 47. Ano Nuevo. “New Year” (Spanish). 

Page 49. Supercargo. Agents in charge of the cargo. 

Page 49. Lynn. A Massachusetts city noted for its manufacture of 
shoes. 

Page 49. Lowell. A Massachusetts city noted for the manufacture of 
cotton cloth. 

Page 56. Binnacle. Box enclosing the compass. 

Page 58. Offing. A distance from shore. 

Page 59. Kelp. Coarse seaweed. 

Page 59. Pueblo. A general term for a group of adobe buildings. 

Page 60. Pueblo de los Angelos. The present city of Los Angeles 
began in a pueblo established by a Mission, that of San Gabriel, the 
ruins of which may still be seen only eight miles from the city itself. 
The San Gabriel Mission was one of the richest of all the Missions, and 
in the early days of California was the usual stopping-place for all 
travelers in that remote region. In 1781 the Mission founded a colony 
or pueblo on the site of a former Indian village, naming it the pueblo 
“of the Angels.” From that pueblo grew the present city. 

Page 62. Reeving a Spanish burton. Passing the end of a rope through 
a tackle consisting of one double and one or two single blocks. 

Page 63. Make a spread eagle of. Stretched out with arms above his 
head; tied up for flogging. 

Page 63. Seized up. Fastened up with a rope. 


222 


NOTES 


Page 67. I would do something to redress the grievances and relieve the 
sufferings. After his return to New England, Dana studied law, and 
later practised his profession with great success. He often took the 
part of a wronged sailor in a lawsuit, even when he knew that he would 
receive little or no pay for his services. He was also instrumental in 
settling out of court many cases between masters or owners of vessels 
and sailors. He likewise published a book for the guidance of seamen 
as to their legal rights, and wrote many articles, and delivered many 
speeches in behalf of the welfare of sailors. Thus before the end of his 
life Dana was able in some degree to better the conditions of life for all 
sailors. 

Page 68. Scott's "Pirate." An interesting novel of the Shetlands. 
The chief characters are Magnus Troil and his daughters Minna and 
Brenda. 

Page 69. Lively song. Songs sung by sailors at their work are called 
chanteys. The best collection is entitled “Music of the Waters,” by 
L. A. Smith. 

Page 70. Housed. Covered up. 

Page 71. Bumpkin. Small boom or spar. 

Page 71. Stanchions. Upright supports. 

Page 74. Vendible. Salable. 

Page 75. Mayordomo. Steward of a great household. 

Page 75. Frijoles. Beans. 

Page 75. Reales. Small silver coins used in Spanish-speaking coun¬ 
tries. 

Page 76. Pulperias. Saloons. 

Page 81. Long league. A league varies from 2.42 to 4.6 miles. A 
sailor’s league is 3 miles. 

Page 82. Fandango. A Spanish dance. 

Page 84. “ Cabellas ” and “ carrera .” Caballo de carrera is Spanish for 
race horse. 

Page 85. “ Genta de razon .” Literally “reasonable beings.” Dana 
seems to use the expression in the sense of “ fashionable folks.” 

Page 86. Barcarollas. . Melodies like Venetian boat songs. 

Page 86. Oahu. An island of the Hawaiian group. The capital, 
Honolulu, is situated on Oahu. 

Page 88. San Juan Campestrano. One of the stateliest of the Spanish 
Missions. Its ruins lie between San Diego and Los Angeles. 

Page 91. Beach-comber. One who searches the beaches for things of 
value. 

Page 92. Worse business than slave-trading. Piracy. 

Page 93. Kanakas. Natives of Hawaii. 

Page 100. Otaheitan. A native of Tahiti. 

Page 100. Marquesas. A group of islands in the southern Pacific. 

Page 102. On the qui vive. On the alert. 

Page 106. Mazatlan. A town on the Mexican coast. Also the dis¬ 
trict of which the town is the capital. 

Page 108. Mizzen-peak. Peak of the mast next back of the main¬ 
mast. 

Page 110. Pinnace. A large boat, not so large, however, as the long¬ 
boat. 

Page 110, Frigate , An old-fashioned war vessel with sails. 


NOTES 


223 


Page 110. Ballast. Weight used to keep a ship steady. 

Page 113. Drawing a long bow. Telling highly imaginative, but 
plausible, falsehoods. 

Page 115. Sailor's shuffle. A dance in which the dancer pushes or 
scrapes his foot along the floor as he takes each step. 

Page 118. Falconer's “Shipwreck." An 18th century, three canto 
poem by William Falconer. The action occupies six days. The ship 
Britannia , bound for Venice, is overtaken and driven out of her course 
by a storm. Four seamen are swept away. The helmsman is struck 
blind by lightning, and the ship is finally wrecked on the rocks at Cape 
Colonna. The hero alone is washed ashore, and finally reaches England 
with his tragic story. 

Page 118. Corn Laws. The first English corn law, restricting the 
importation of grain into England, was passed in 1361. The last was 
repealed in 1846. 

Page 119. Devon. A county in England. 

Page 124. Lascar. East Indian. 

Page 125. Manila. Capital of the Philippines. 

Page 125. Ladrone. A group of islands east of the Philippines. 

Page 125. Pelew. A group of islands east of the Philippines. This 
group is nearer the Philippines and farther south than the Ladrones. 

Page 128. Chimes of oil-casks. The sharp edges of the oil-casks. 

Page 135. Yankee Californians. Most of the Californians of Dana’s 
time were Spanish. 

Page 135. Asitka. Sitka, in Alaska. 

Page 135. Russian America. Now Alaska. The United States pur¬ 
chased Alaska from Russia in 1867 for $7,200,000. 

Page 135. Nova Zembla. Cold, bleak, practically uninhabited islands 
in the Arctic Ocean. They belong to Russia. 

Page 136. San Jose. Founded in 1777 as a pueblo by sixty-six 
Spanish town-builders, or pobladores. 

Page 136. Santa Clara. Another Mission settlement. Now in the 
heart of the greatest seed-bed of the world. Flowers and vegetables are 
raised by the acre in this region for their seeds. 

Page 137. Isla de los Angelos. “Island of the Angels” (Spanish). 

Page 138. Mussels. Small edible mollusks. 

Page 139. Caulk. To make a boat’s seams tight by plugging with 
oakum. 

Page 139. Gaskets. Rings or disks of packing to make joints water- 
tight. 

Page 140. If California ever becomes a prosperous country , this bay will 
be the centre of its prosperity. This prophecy of Dana has been fulfilled, 
for San Francisco has grown to be one of the great ports of the world. 

Page 142. Carmel Mission. This Mission was not far from Monterey. 

Page 142. Tortillas. Thin round cakes made from maize. The 
maize is softened by boiling, then crushed on a flat stone, after which 
it is moulded with the hands into a thin flat cake which is then baked 
on a smooth flat surface. A Mexican food staple. 

Page 142. Calabozo. The lock-up. 

Page 144. Castilian. From Castile, in Spain. Castilian Spanish is 
uncorrupted. It varies in many respects from the Spanish dialects 
spoken in Spanish-American countries. 


224 


NOTES 


Page 144. Gil Bias. A romance by Lesage (1715). Gil Bias had the 
reputation of being a great scholar. His intentions were good, but his 
vanity led him into much trouble. He improved, however, as he grew 
older, and became an honest, upright man. 

Page 147. Sombrero. A broad-rimmed hat. Sombrero is the Spanish 
word for hat. 

Page 151. Sumatra. An island of the Malay group. Parts of it are 
exceedingly unhealthful because of the unvarying dampness and tropical 
heat. 

Page 154. Tallied on to the cat-jail. To tally means to catch hold of, 
or to “clap onto” a rope. The cat-fall is the rope which, being rove in 
the cat-block and cat-head, forms the tackle for heaving up the anchor 
from the water’s edge to the cat-head, which is a projecting timber 
affording support by which to lift the anchor. 

Page 156. Scott's “Woodstock .” The story is concerned with the time 
of Cromwell, and the dangers attending the restoration of “Prince 
Charlie” to the English throne. It ends with the restoration of Charles 
II. Of course it includes a love story: the romance of Alice Lee and 
Everard. 

Page 163. Vi et armis. By force of arms. 

Page 165. Tarpaulins battened. The water-proof, tarred canvas fas¬ 
tened over the hatchway and made secure with strips of wood. 

Page 167. Jigger. A small sail. 

Page 171. Bitts. Pieces of wood to which cables are fastened. 

Page 171. Cat-head. A beam of wood or iron by which the anchor is 
supported and kept clear of the ship. 

Page 172. Botany. The study of plants. 

Page 172. Ornithology. The study of birds. 

Page 173. Chronometer. A very accurate time-keeper. Barometer. 
An instrument used to measure atmospheric pressure and therefore to 
forecast the weather. Thermometer. An instrument to measure tem¬ 
perature. 

Page 175. Bobstays. A chain or rope from the end of the bowsprit 
to the stem to balance the strain of the forestays. 

Page 180. Meridian altitude. By measuring the position of the sun 
at midday a mariner can tell exactly where he is. 

Page 191. Terra del Fuego. An archipelago south of the southern 
end of South America, from which it is separated by the Strait of Magel¬ 
lan. It is divided between Chili and Argentina. 

Page 193. Belaying-pin. A movable pin to which the slack of running 
gear may be made fast. 

Page 194. Nectar and ambrosia. The gods of the Greeks were believed 
to drink nectar and to eat ambrosia as food. 

Page 198. Yaw. To move wildly or irregularly out of her course 
(i.e. f a ship). 

Page 198. Come-to. Come back to an upright position. 

# Page 198. Cleat. A strip of wood or iron fastened across other mate¬ 
rial. 

Page 198. Belayed. Fastened ropes around pins. 

Page 203. Reef-point. End of the sail folded under. 

Page 203. Trinidad. An island in the British West Indies. 


NOTES 


225 


Page 204. Tropic of Cancer. 23° 27' north of the equator. The 
northern limit of the torrid zone. 

Page 204. Horse Latitudes. A belt of the North Atlantic Ocean be¬ 
tween the region of westerly winds of more northern latitudes and the 
region of the trade winds of the torrid zone. This belt was notorious 
for tedious calms very serious to sailing vessels. One explanation of its 
name is that vessels with cargoes of horses were so often delayed in this 
belt that the animals sometimes perished from lack of water. 

Page 204. West Indies. A group of islands east of North and South 
America. Also known as the Antilles. 

Page 204. Cuba. The largest island of the West Indies. 

Page 204. Erebus. In classical mythology, the dark region under the 
earth, peopled with the dead. 

Page 206. Egyptian darkness. One of the plagues sent against the 
Egyptians in the time of Moses. See Exodus X: 21-23. 

Page 207. Bermudas. A group of islands in the North Atlantic Ocean. 
They belong to Great Britain. 

Page 208. Curagao. An island in the Dutch West Indies. 

Page 208. Spanish Main. The coast along the northern part of South 
America. 

Page 209. Hatteras. A cape on the coast of North Carolina, visited 
by frequent storms. 

Page 209. Gulf Stream. A warm current of salt water flowing from 
the Gulf of Mexico northward through the Atlantic Ocean, and moder¬ 
ating the climate of the eastern seaboard of the United States. 

Page 211. Marblehead. On the Massachusetts coast, northeast of 
Boston. 

Page 212. Block Island. An island south of Rhode Island, and east 
of Long Island. 

Page 212. Nantucket Shoals. Nantucket is an island off the coast of 
Massachusetts. 

Page 213. Cape Cod. The extreme eastern extremity of Massachu¬ 
setts. It is a long narrow peninsula, 65 miles in length, curving to 
enclose Cape Cod Bay. 


QUESTIONS 

Chapter I 

1. Where was the brig “Pilgrim” bound? 

2. How long was the voyage to be? 

3. Why had Richard Dana undertaken the journey? 

4. Why was the new sailor bewildered at first? 

5. Why was he of very little help the first few days? 

6. With what kind of food were the sailors served? 

7. Why were the sailors pleased whenever they saw another ship? 

Chapter II 

1. How much power has a captain while on board his ship? 

2. What are the duties of the chief mate? 

3. Why do the sailors refer to the second mate as the “ sailor’s waiter”? 

4. What advantages has the position of second mate? 

5. What is the steward’s work? 

6. Why do sailors like to keep in the favor of the cook? 

7. Which members of the crew stand no watch? Why? 

8. How often are the watches changed? 

9. What is a “dog-watch”? 

10. Why is it necessary to have “watches” on a sailing vessel? 

11. How does a sailor’s day begin? 

12. Why is discipline on board ship so strict? 

13. Why is a sailor always busy? 

Chapter III 

1. How was Sunday spent at sea? 

2. What is a “duff”? 

3. Why do the sailors consider it a luxury? 

4. Why did the “Pilgrim” try to outdistance the clipper with the 
black hull? 

5. What did Dana mean by saying that he was now a “son of Nep¬ 
tune”? 

6. Why was the second mate reprimanded? 

7. How was he punished? 

8. Why did the weather grow colder as the ship neared Cape Horn? 

9. Where is Cape Horn? 

10. What islands were passed ? 

Chapter IV 

1. What are the “Magellan” Clouds? 

2. For whom are they named? 

3. What is the Southern Cross? 

4. Why can’t we see it? 

5. Why did sailors formerly dread Cape Horn? 

6. Why was Dana proud of his steering? 

226 


QUESTIONS 


227 


7. Why was life hard for the sailors when the ship was near Cape 
Horn? 

8 . What happened when a man lost his tin cup of tea? 

9. What was hot “scouse”? 

10 . What sometimes happened to a sailor’s dinner? 

11. Who was Capt. Job Terry? 

12. Why did he come on board? 

13. How did the sailors catch albatrosses? 

14. Where do these birds live? 

Chapter V 

1. What accident blackened Nov. 17th? 

2 . What effect on the crew had the accident? 

3. What became of Ballmer’s clothes? 

4. Why had it been impossible to save Ballmer? 

5. Why are a dead sailor’s possessions always sold? 

6 . Why was the cook afraid lest the carpenter might be a Finn? 

7. What sailors are most superstitious? 

Chapter VI 

1. For what did the government of Chili use the island of Juan Fer¬ 
nandez? 

2. Why did the brig “Pilgrim” stop there? 

3. Why did the island of Juan Fernandez seem romantic to Richard 
Dana? 

4. How large is the island ? 


Chapter VII 

1. How was the brig made ready for the arrival on the western coast 
of North America? 

2. How was Christmas celebrated on board the “Pilgrim”? 

3. Why did the crew quarrel with the cook? 

4. Why was the crew in an irritable state of mind? 

5. Why did sailors prefer to bunk in the forecasde rather than in the 
steerage ? 

6 . Why did the crew complain to the captain? 

7 . How did the captain receive the complaints? 

8 . How long did it take the brig to make the journey from Boston to 
Santa Barbara? 

Chapter VIII 

1. Why is it difficult for ships to remain at anchor in the bay of Santa 
Barbara? 

2 . What California ports were free from the southeaster? 

3. What advantages had the climate of Santa Barbara? 

4. What name for “Sandwich Islanders” is more commonly used now? 

5. How was the landing made? 

6 . What was the purpose of the captain in coming to Santa Barbara? 

7. How were the hides loaded? 

8 . Why did the second mate call it “head work”? 

9. What was the “Ayacucho”? 

10 . Why did trouble between captain and mate threaten? 


228 


QUESTIONS 


Chapters IX-X 

1. To what port did the “Pilgrim” go from Santa Barbara? 

2. Why did so many people come on board the “Pilgrim”? 

3. How did these people differ from those to whom Richard Dana was 
better accustomed? 

4. What did he think of their language? 

5. How did he set about learning it? 

6 . How were the houses of Monterey built? 

7. Why were the English and Americans in California more pros¬ 
perous than the natives? 

8 . Why were the natives good horsemen? 

9. Why was Sunday no real holiday for the crew of the “Pilgrim”? 


Chapter XI 


1. To what port did the “Pilgrim” go from Monterey? 

2. What was the main business at Santa Barbara? 

3. How were the hides loaded? 

4. What were “harbor duties”? 

5. How would you enjoy a sailor’s Sunday? 

6 . Why was the length of the “Pilgrim’s” voyage uncertain? 

7. Why did this uncertainty worry Richard Dana? 

8 . Why did the captain grow more severe toward the men? 

9. How did the sailors like this treatment? 

10 . Who was “Mr.” Russell? 

11 . Why did the sailors dislike him? 

12. What was the “Pueblo de los Angelos”? 

13. Where did the “Pilgrim” go from Santa Barbara? 

14. Why was landing cargo and loading hides especially difficult 
this place ? 


Chapter XII 


in 


1. How did the captain punish Sam? 

2. Why do you think the captain was unjust? 

3. Why was John, the Swede, punished also? 

4. How did the sight of the punishment affect Dana? 

5. What would you have done in his place? 

6 . What would have happened if the sailors had offered resistance ? 

7. How did Dana happen to be left ashore alone? 

8 . How did he spend his time ashore ? 

9. Why did the crew avoid talk about the flogging? 

10. How did the attitude of the crew affect the work? 

11. How did the accident with the “Lagoda” and the “Loriotte” 
happen ? 

12o Why did Capt. Wilson take command? 


Chapter XIII 

1. How does a sailor prepare to go ashore? 

2. What makes a sailor’s liberty-day seem perfect? 

3. Where did most of the “liberty-men” go first? 

4. How did Dana and his friend get away from the crowd? 

5. How did they spend their liberty? 

6 . How is a California mission laid out? 


QUESTIONS 


229 


7. How were the sailors entertained at the mission? 

8 . Do you think most of the sailors were better off because of their 
liberty-day ? 

Chapter XIV 

1. Why did the captain find it difficult to hire Sandwich Islanders to 
help on board the ship? 

2 . Who was “Old Bess”? 

3. What joke did the sailors play on her owner? 

4. Why was she taken ashore ? 

5. Why did Foster run away? 

6 . How did he plan his departure? 

7. Why didn’t the captain capture him? 

8 . How did the crew feel about Foster’s escape? 

9. Why did the brig go back to Santa Barbara? 

Chapter XV 

1. What were the Sunday amusements at Santa Barbara? 

2. What strange funeral customs were observed here? 

3. Why did the crew of the Italian ship have more holidays than the 
crew of the “Pilgrim”? 

4. What was the business of the “Catalina”? 

5. What strange animal could be seen at San Pedro in the spring 
season ? 

6 . What made San Pedro seem a romantic spot? 

7. Why did Dana enjoy being alone on the shore at San Pedro? 

8 . How were the hides loaded at San Juan Campestrano? 

9. How did the Sandwich Islanders live when the ships were gone and 
there was no work? 

10. Why did these men at first refuse to work for the captain? 

11. Why did they agree to work a week later? 

12. What unexpected change of work was Dana given? 

Chapter XVI 

1. How did Dana like the change of occupation? 

2. What sort of companions had he? 

3. Why was Nicholas afraid to show himself in the United States? 

4. Why was Dana not afraid of Nicholas? 

5. How did it happen that there were usually a great many Sandwich 
Islanders at San Diego? 

6 . Why was hide-curing disagreeable work? 

7. How was the wood for cooking obtained? 

8 . How did Dana like wood-cutting expeditions? 

9. What were the coyotes? 

10. What other animals ran wild in the woods? 

Chapter XVII 

1. How did the crews of the two new vessels spend their free time? 

2. What nations were represented? 

3. How did they manage to converse? 

4. What change in beach “society” took place after the two vessels 
left? 


230 


QUESTIONS 


5. How was the time spent after the hides were all cured? 

6 . How did Dana get reading matter? _ . 

7. What changes had taken place in the returned “Pilgrim ? 

8 . How were the changes accounted for? 

9. What was the “Alert”? 

10. What did the “Pilgrim” bring for Dana?, 

11. What was meant by “burning the water”? 

12 . Who won the battle between the Sandwich Islanders and “Johnny 
Shark”? 


Chapter XVIII 

1. How do you know that the Sandwich Islanders were good swim¬ 
mers? 

2. Why was Dana anxious to see the “Alert”? 

3. What were Dana’s plans for the future? 

4. How did the “Alert” compare with the “Pilgrim”? 

5. How did Dana get himself transferred to the “Alert”? 

Chapter XIX 

1. Why did the work go better on the “Alert” than on the “Pilgrim”? 

2. How did the crew compare with the crew of the “Pilgrim”? 

3. Which boat had the more efficient officers? 

4. What fun was permitted on board? 

5. Who was Capt. Faucon? 

6 . What were the duties of the sailors who manned the gig? 

7. Why did the captain often plan to sail on the Sabbath? 

8 . How did Dana come to know Tom Harris so well? 

9. In what respects was Harris unusual? 

10. Why was a man with so fine a mind working as a common sailor? 

11. What incident showed his unusual will power? 

12. What did Harris himself think of his past life? 

Chapter XX 

1. Why do you think Dana was glad not to land at San Pedro? 

2. What old friends did he find at San Diego? 

3. Why was Dana obliged to descend the steep precipice at San Juan? 

4. How did he make the descent? 

5. Was the effort worth while? 

6 . What new sailor was shipped at San Pedro? 

7. How did George Marsh account for his knowledge of French? 

8 . Why did he know so much about books? 

9. How did Marsh fall into the hands of the Pelew Islanders? 

10. How did he escape ? 

11. In what part of the world are the Pelew Islands? 

Chapter XXI 

1. What kind of ship is a spouter? 

2. Why were the sailors on the “Alert” anxious to board the “Wil¬ 
mington and Liverpool Packet”? 

3. Why did the crew purposely keep the boat in such a position that 
the Spanish passengers were drenched ? 


QUESTIONS 


231 


4. Where was the “Alert” bound? 

5. How long did it take to reach San Francisco? 

Chapter XXII 

1. Why did the “Alert” go to San Francisco instead of to Monterey? 

2. Why had the Russian brig come to San Francisco? 

3. How was this brig manned? 

4. What did Dana think of her crew? 

5. How were the sailors dressed? 

6 . How was the vessel fitted out? 

7. What curiosities were carried by the Russians for trade? 

8 . How was the hide trade carried on at San Francisco? 

9. How did Dana escape a disagreeable service? 

10 . How did the rain affect the work? 

11. How was the agent paid for his selfishness? 

12 . Why was wood-gathering a difficult task? 

13. How was water obtained for the return voyage? 

14. What sort of work was done on board ship? 

15. Why was it necessary for the sailors to do work for themselves? 

16. How far has Dana’s prophecy as to the future of San Francisco 
been fulfilled? 

17. To what port did the “Alert” sail from San Francisco? 

Chapter XXIII 

1. Why had the “Pilgrim” given up hope of seeing the “Alert” again? 

2. How did the crew make ready for a visit to the shore? 

3. How did Dana spend the day ashore ? 

4. Did all the sailors make as good a use of the day? 

5. What happened to Nat, the bully? 

6 . Why was Don Juan Bandini an object of pity? 

7. Why was the brig “Convoy” armed? 

8 . Why did the agent have a Spanish wedding? 

9. How did the “Alert” celebrate the wedding? 

10. What is a “fandango”? 

11. What amusements were enjoyed in the evening? 

12. Why did the sailors have to cut their part of the celebration 
short ? 

Chapter XXIV 

1. How did Dana feel toward his old comrades on the “Pilgrim”? 

2. Why was he glad to see San Diego? 

3 . Why was the white man’s civilization no blessing to the Sandwich 
Islanders? 

4. Why did the captain refuse to help Hope? 

5. Who did help him? 

6 . What became of “Mr.” Russell? 

7. What good news came from Santa Barbara? 

8 . Why is a sailor’s letter from home common property? 

9. How did the sailors know that they were going home soon? 

10. What became of George Marsh ? 

11. How long was the “Alert” to remain at San Domingo? 

12. What was her business there? 


232 


QUESTIONS 


Chapter XXV 

1. Why was the ballast thrown out? 

2. What is meant by “smoking ship”? 

3. Why is it done? 

4. How many hides had been collected? 

5. How long did it take to load them? 

6 . How was the work done? 

7. What is “steeving”? 

8 . Why do sailors sing while at work? 

9. What kind of food was provided for them? 

10. How did Dana’s friend leave the “Pilgrim”? 

11 . What was now the condition of Hope? 

12. Why was the crew glad to see the “California”? 

13. What crisis did Dana face before the “Alert” left? 

14. How did he succeed in remaining on the “Alert”? 

15. How was Hope provided for? 

16. Why could the “California” sail so much faster than the “Alert”? 

Chapter XXVI 

1. What made the voyage unusually hard? 

2. How were the watches below spent? 

3. How did the sailors manage to sleep in dry berths? 

4. How long was the journey to Boston expected to last? 

5. Who was the “passenger” on board the “Alert”? 

6 . How did the crew manage a freshwater bath? 

7. Why was it necessary to make careful preparations before reaching 
Cape Horn? 

Chapter XXVII 

1 . What change in climate was noticeable as the ship sailed south? 

2. What precautions were taken to prevent the sweeping away of 
everything on deck? 

3. Why does a sailor need to be a strong, courageous man? 

4. How did the mate befriend Dana? 

5. How was the fourth of July spent? 

6 . What trouble did the ice-islands and icebergs cause? 

7. Was the “Alert” really a temperance ship? 

8 . Why do sailors drink rum ? 

9. What was the common beverage of a sailor on board ship? 

10. What caused Dana’s illness? 

11. Who befriended him? 

12. How was mutiny averted? 

13: How did the captain treat the crew as soon as he heard of the 
possibility of a mutiny? 

14. What was the prospect when Dana was able to return to the deck 
again? 

15. Where was the ship now bound? 

Chapter XXVIII 

1 . What is meant by “doubling Cape Horn”? 

2. Why was this a difficult feat? 




QUESTIONS 


233 


3. Why did the cold rains make the problem of proper clothing for 
the sailors a hard one ? 

4. How did Dana kill time? 

5. What is a “Cape Horn life”? 

6 . Why was everyone so delighted to see Staten Island? 

Chapter XXIX 

1. What change came over the men as soon as they had rounded 
Cape Horn ? 

2. How was the first fine Sunday spent? 

3. What had to be done to put the ship in order for coming into port? 

4. Do you think the mate was wrong and the captain right? 

Chapter XXX 

1. What effect on the other sailors had Dana’s narrow escape? 

2 . What unusual phenomenon was visible during the thunderstorm? 

3. Why is a ship seldom injured by lightning? 

Chapter XXXI 

1 . What special reason was there for haste on the homeward journey? 

2. What was the only hope for Ben ? 

3. What help did the brig “Solon” bring? 

4. How do sailors know when their ship is in the Gulf Stream ? 

Chapter XXXII 

1. Why was discipline allowed to relax as the ship neared home? 

2. How did the sailors make ready for landing? 

3. Why was landing somewhat delayed ? 

4. What changes did the junior partner observe in Dana? 







































































